


Infinite

by solinear (vilse)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Age Difference, Band Fic, F/M, Panic At The Disco (Band), Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, also a lot of fluff, being in a band, finding yourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 58,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilse/pseuds/solinear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aubrey Walker is a normal eighteen-year-old girl in a small New Jersey town. At least until she meets Gerard Way. </p><p>Set 2007-2008, mostly during the Black Parade World Tour.</p><p>-</p><p>I originally posted this on Mibba like nine years ago. I'm slowly working my way through rewriting it, or at least eliminating the worst parts (seriously, I started writing this when I was sixteen and English is NOT my first language), and posting it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the best fanfic in the world. Still, I'm pretty proud of it, not because of its literary qualities but because it's so amazingly long. (Almost infinite, you might say. *cough*) And while it doesn't always make sense, mostly because I took all the plot bunnies and made them happen, it has been with me for the most important parts of my teens. And although Aubrey is an insufferable Mary Sue, I really like her. She did all the things I wanted to do when I was sixteen, and she still managed to have all the insecurities I had. I loved writing her (and I still do). 
> 
> I started writing this fic because I wanted to read it, and I hope you'll want to read it too.

It’s almost midnight when we finally get on stage, but it feels like the crowd is here just because of us. We are second to last of tonight’s four bands, and the two bands that played before us were not enough to make the crowd ecstatic.

But we are.

I can feel it even before we start playing, the energy pulsating through my body, and I want to jump and dance and sing and have it go on forever. And as our lead guitarist Karl plunges into the first intro, I know that this will be the best gig we’ve ever had. It doesn’t matter that I know at least half of the people in the crowd, or that they are here because Red practically forced them. Karl and Red and Noel and I are one tonight, we’re Infinity, and for the first time in ages I get giddy at the thought “I’m in a band.” Two years ago this was only a dream, and an idea formed in Red’s basement.

Not that we’re famous or anything, I mean, we’re all still in high school except for Karl who graduated last year. And sometimes at band practice I have my doubts about us – we’re just another New Jersey band after all.

But tonight we’re on top of the world.

We begin with our own song _Sometimes It Feels Like Morning_ , and then _Teen Anxiety Never Felt So Real_ – and I don’t forget lyrics and Karl’s solos are just amazing and even if I forget one or two chords it doesn’t really matter, the crowd is ecstatic and I’m pretty sure no one notices. Our last song is a cover that caused the guys to make vomit noises when I suggested it a few weeks ago, but tonight My Chemical Romance’s _Teenagers_ makes the crowd cheer and sing along. I look back at Noel during “they say that teenagers scare the living shit outta me” and smile at his bemused expression. So what if I’m “such a teen” and that the guys are so much cooler than I’ll ever be – this time I was right, and the crowd is almost reluctant to let us go, as they chant for more as we get off stage.

“Sorry guys, our time is up. But our demo is available for purchase, just come talk to us!” I say in the microphone before handing it over to the sound guy.

And there are at least a dozen people who wants our demo, even though Karl warns them and says that the sound is really bad and that we do our thing best live before Red tells him to shut up.

“This is fucking amazing, everyone should buy it!” he tells the next person in line.

After we’ve sold our CDs and all our equipment has been loaded into Karl’s van, we hit the road. We have a half-hour drive in front of us to get back home.

 

 -

 

 "Aubrey! Get your lazy ass down here!”

I groan and roll over, pressing the pillow over my ears to shut out the offending noise. A quick glance at the alarm clock – it’s seven thirty. We got back late last night – or early this morning, if you want – and Rick knows that, but he doesn’t care if I get sleep deprived.

“Aubrey!” he shouts again, and I know he’ll come up here if I don’t answer.

“Yeah?” I shout back, still reluctant to get out of bed. I can hear my siblings running around screaming downstairs. Rick always gets cranky when they’re running around, he thinks children should be silent and well-behaved.

“I said get down here!”

I put my bare feet on the floor, my head spinning from lack of sleep. I reach for my sweatpants and pull them over my legs, and after checking the mirror and making a face – my red-streaked dark hair is a mess and I'm red-eyed – I make my way downstairs. Rick is standing by the foot of the staircase, glaring at me as I get down.

“What?” I ask, walking past him into the kitchen.

”I’ve been telling you to get down here for ages!”

“I was sleeping,” I say as I pick up Elliott when he runs past me. He squeals, but I promptly place him in his chair. “Have they eaten?”

Rick sighs as if saying “do I have to do everything around here?”

“No. Your mom left an hour ago and I have to leave now, you’re taking care of them today.”

“Okay.”

The five years that I've lived with Rick have taught me not to argue about babysitting, or about anything else for that matter. Babysitting is currently the only thing we manage not to argue about, though.

Five-year-old Jamie runs into the kitchen, red-faced and giggling from playing with Elliott the whole morning. Elliott, who has gotten over the initial shock of being placed in the high chair, waves his arms and says: “Da-ddy!” Rick just walks out the kitchen door without looking at him.

“Jamie, come here and have some breakfast,” I say, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach.

As Jamie takes a seat on the other side of the table, I ask myself for the umpteenth time why mom and Rick decided to have children. I’m pretty sure Jamie was an accident, but what about Elliott? You would think they had figured out how to use contraceptives after getting pregnant once. But my mom has never been very bright, come to think of it – she may have given me out-of-date food once or twice and once left me home alone for a whole day when I was five years old.

I get my siblings some cereal and wonder if Jamie is responsible enough to be left alone for ten minutes while I take a shower. Deciding against it, I run upstairs, run a brush through my hair, put on my most ripped pair of jeans and a Misfits t-shirt, as well as a black woolen cap to cover the shoulder-length frizzle that is my hair. After zipping up my black hoodie and putting on my chucks, I get downstairs again where Jamie and Elliott are still eating. More or less.

“Aurey lucky arms no,” Elliott states and holds up his plate for me to see. The Lucky Charms have been mashed with the milk and become a non-edible sticky substance. I sigh and take the bowl from him, place it in the sink and start peeling a banana for him instead. In the meantime, Jamie has finished her breakfast and is climbing down to the floor.

“Are we going out today Aubre-ey?” Jamie asks as I give Elliott his banana.

“If you want to,” I say, sitting down and pouring some cereal (Special K – Lucky Charms are not for me) into my own bowl and adding milk. “Do you want to go to the playground?”

Elliott’s face lightens up at the mention of the playground, but Jamie makes a face.  “No, I wanna shopping!” she exclaims, then smiles her sweetest smile. “Pleeaasee Aubrey?”

I sigh, but try to hide my smile. Jamie is not your ordinary five-year-old – she actually enjoys going shopping more than going to the playground, and likes to watch MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball rather than Disney Channel.

“Alright, but we won’t buy any cd's today, okay?”

“Clothes?”

“If I have enough money, then sure.”

“Yay!”

Jamie starts jumping around, and Elliott, not knowing what’s going on but excited because Jamie is, does the same. Ten minutes later, I have put on my eyeliner (won’t leave the house without it) and helped Jamie and Elliott get their clothes on. After securing Elliott in his car seat, making sure Jamie has fastened her seatbelt and putting Elliott’s stroller in the trunk of the car, I put the car in reverse.

 

I’ve never really liked Newark. There is something gray about it – like someone has put a giant, wet blanket over the whole town, making the air hard to breathe and the people look gloomy. New York is just an hour’s car ride away, but today I’d rather not face the Manhattan traffic – plus, it would be much harder to keep track of two kids in a city that big.

Not that Newark is very small. As soon as Jamie gets out of the car, I start worrying about her. Elliott is in his stroller, happily playing with – wait, is that my iPod?!

“No, Elliott,” I say, taking the expensive device out of his hands. His eyes widen and I can feel a tantrum coming, so I quickly hand him my switched-off cell phone (if he breaks it I can always try to persuade Mom to buy me a new one, but she won’t be as understanding about a broken iPod). “Jamie, stay here!”

“But I wanna go over there!” she pouts, pointing over at Hot Topic, which is located across the street from where I parked the car.

“We will, just… try not to get run over, okay?”

“Fine,” she says and gives and exaggerated sigh.

Half an hour later, we leave Hot Topic, me with one bag containing a shirt and the new The Sounds cd, and Jamie with a bag containing a My Chemical Romance cap and the Green Day album Dookie (since she complained so loudly when she saw me buying a cd – “You said we couldn’t buy cd's, Aubrey!”). Elliott has abandoned my cell phone, and is now happily watching a man selling balloons on a street corner, so I switch it on and put it in my pocket.

It’s still too early for lunch, but we stop to get donuts. Jamie is ecstatic – Mom and Rick apparently think donuts are dangerous.

“I love you, Aubrey,” she says and takes a big bite of her chocolate-covered donut. Feeling warm and happy (and not because of the large amount of sugar I’ve just consumed), I say:

“Love you too, kiddo.”

You know how you can say that to your family members and not really mean it?

Between Jamie and me, it’s always true.

We decide to go to a mall located just a few blocks away. It’s packed with people, seeing as it’s Sunday, and I tell Jamie to hold on to the stroller so she won’t get lost. I think Elliott is about to fall asleep, so I don’t think he’ll walk away on his own.

Just to be sure, I get a black marker from my bag and write down my phone number on Jamie’s forearm. She giggles and says that it looks like a tattoo.

We walk around for a bit, looking in the display windows while Elliott falls asleep. Just as we pass the fountain in the middle of the mall, MCR’s Blood starts playing. It takes a while for me to realize that it is my cell phone ringing – I change the signal too often to remember which one I have at the moment. I quickly take the phone from my pocket and check the display. It’s Red.

“Hey babe! Sleep well?” he says when I answer.

“Yeah, until seven thirty when I had to babysit.”

“Aww, that sucks. But you know what?!”

“No, what?” I say, trying to stabilize Elliott's head so he won't strain his neck while sleeping.

“We’ve got another gig!” Red yells in my ear.

“What? Where?” I’ve suddenly forgotten all about Elliott’s neck, and turn all of my attention to what Red is saying instead.

“New York fucking City, baby! Apparently some guy who owns a place there saw us yesterday and wants us to play.”

“Seriously?"

I feel like I have to sit down. We’ve been trying to get gigs in Manhattan for a while, calling different places and trying to persuade them to let us play. They’ve never wanted us. Sometimes they said they already had enough up-and-coming New Jersey bands playing, and sometimes they just said that if they hadn’t heard us, we probably weren’t good enough.

“Seriously! But we’ve gotta get practicing ASAP, what d’you say about tomorrow?”

“Red, we always practice on Mondays. But I’m not skipping school if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t asking. Or okay, I was asking. But would you at least think about it?”

I roll my eyes, despite the fact that Red can’t see me.

“Alright, alright, I know it’s important and I promise I’ll think about it.”

“I love you, Aubrey.”

“Hah! A wise man once said that if you don’t go to high school, you will definitely go to jail.”

“Nah, come on, it’s just for one week! We won’t miss out on anything that important!”

“Hmph.”

“Just think about it. I’ve gotta go.”

We hang up, and I smile to myself. It will be worth missing out on school if it means we will do a great show, it’s just fun to piss off Red.

“Jamie, what do you…” want for lunch? I mean to say, but as I turn around, no Jamie is in sight. “Jamie?”

It takes me three seconds to take two deep breaths and fail to keep calm. Jamie is _gone_ , I look around the fountain, walk around the whole bottom floor of the mall, but she is nowhere to be seen.

I try to think – where did she want to go before Red called?

She’s five years old and too curious for her own good.  It’s my fault – I tried to keep track of her but if I hadn’t been so occupied talking to Red, she would have stayed with me. What if she has been kidnapped? My phone number on her forearm won’t do her much good then.  She’s _five years old_ , how could I let something happen to her?

After five minutes without any trace of her, I’m on the verge of tears and thinking about calling the police. Maybe I can ask that they call out her name in the speakers, but I have no idea who to turn to.  Just then, _Blood_ goes off in my pocket again. Number unknown.

“Hello?” I say, hoping with all my heart that it has to do with Jamie.

“Uh… hi, is this Jamie’s mom?” an unfamiliar male voice asks.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for anything in my entire life.

“Yes!” I say, too happy to think properly. “I mean, no, it’s her sister." Awkward pause. "Have you found her?”

“Why would I be calling you if I hadn’t?” he says, chuckling. “We’re at Barnes & Noble, in the music section."

“I’ll be there,” I say, and then sprint (or walk quickly, since Elliott is still asleep in the stroller) towards Barnes & Noble, up the escalator to where the music books are. Despite the fact that Jamie can’t read, she loves looking at pictures of her idols and have me read out loud from parts she understands. I don’t know why I didn’t look there before – maybe I was too busy panicking.

“Aubrey!!”

She’s suddenly there, and I bend down to hug her with all my might.

“Fuck, Jamie, don’t ever do that again!” I say, now with tears streaming down my face. I don't even care that I just used the f-word in front of her. “Do you realize how worried I was? You could have been kidnapped or…”

“Aubrey, I met Gerard!” she says, seemingly oblivious to my worry – her eyes are bright and she’s grinning. My desperate sobbing decreases a bit.

“What? Gerard who?”

“I’m Gerard.”

I’m still emotional from imagining losing Jamie, so seeing Gerard Way smiling at me when I stand up is kind of unreal.

“She was looking a bit lost, so I asked her where her parents were,” he says. I wipe the tears and the smudged eyeliner from my eyes and is about to say something, preferably ‘thank you’, when Jamie speaks again.

“Gerard told me he’d sing Cancer for me!”

I look over at Gerard, who is smiling, although looking a little embarrassed.

“She asked me to,” he explains. I find myself thinking _damn he’s hot_ , before realizing that I haven’t even introduced myself.

I reach out my hand to shake his. “I’m Aubrey, I’m Jamie’s sister.” You’ve already told him that, moron. “Thank you so much for calling me, I was starting to panic.” Well, that’s the understatement of the year.

“No problem.”

Okay, now I have no idea what to say. There’s so much I want to say to this man that I don’t really know how to begin, or if this is even the right moment to do it. Luckily, Jamie talks before things get too awkward.

“Geraaaarrrd, sing it now!”

“Jamie!” I scold, giving her a motherly glare. Gerard chuckles.

“It’s alright,” he says to me, and then bends down to talk to Jamie. “Sooo, you want me to sing?” Jamie nod eagerly. “Well, then you have to sing it with me.” Another eager nod. “Are you ready, then?”

And he starts to sing:

_ Turn away _

_ If you could get me a drink_

_ Of water, ‘cause my lips are chapped and faded _

_ Call my aunt Marie… _

Jamie knows every word by heart. _Cancer_ is her favorite song on _The Black Parade_ , she has driven Rick mad countless of times by playing it loud on the stereo, and I’m impressed by her ability to keep calm even though her idol is standing right next to her, singing.  Five-year-olds probably have a better sense of what’s important in life. Not like me who gets nervous just because Gerard is the hot lead singer of a band I like.

I’m close to tears again when the song ends. Great going, Aubrey, tears are so flattering.

Jamie gives Gerard a peck on the cheek, catching him off guard. What is it with that kid and making friends? I wish I had that ability. (Especially when it comes to be able to kiss Gerard Way without seeming like some crazy fangirl… Damn, I so wish I was Jamie right now.)

Gerard blushes (ADORABLE, my mind screams at me, but I try to ignore it) and smiles at Jamie, and then at me.  And then there’s a ‘thanks again’ and ‘it was nice meeting you’ before it’s all over and me and Jamie and Elliott are having lunch at McDonald’s.

I’ve just met Gerard Way and _what the fuck is wrong with me?_

“Did Gerard make you sad?”

No one can read me like my sister. My fries are uneaten while both Jamie and Elliott (who has woken up) have almost finished their meal, and I can’t form proper sentences because I’m so consumed of what has just happened.

Just like most other fans, I’ve thought about what I’d say to the band if I ever got the chance to meet them. I’ve never come up with anything, but somehow I’ve always thought it would be kind of magical, that all the right words would just… pop up. Or at least I would say _something_. (When I was younger, the fantasies of meeting the band also contained being best friends with them and marrying either Gerard or Frank or Mikey, but fortunately I grew older and realized that it didn’t do me any good; it just caused anxiety and a broken heart.)

Now, the chance has come and gone, and I didn’t say anything of importance at all. And I can’t shake off the feeling that it _wasn’t supposed to be this way._ I’m a shy person, I already know that.  But why, why, why did I have to be shy when I met Gerard Way?

At least Jamie’s happy.

“No, he didn’t make me sad,” I say to her, taking a paper napkin to wipe some of the ketchup from Elliott’s cheek. “I just thought I should have said something else to him, that’s all.”

I shrug it off, trying not to worry Jamie. But she looks at me, tilts her head a little and says:

”You don’t have to say special things, Aubrey. Everyone loves you anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow start. Aubrey has some teenage rebellion going on.

Sunday night. Mom is furious about me taking the kids to Newark. Jamie wanted to tell everyone about her encounter with Gerard Way, so where we went to do so just slipped out. But it all still seems unreal. All the “I can’t believe you would do that” and “when are you ever going to take responsibility” blur togetherand it isn’t until the next morning that reality seems real again. 

And it isn’t until then that I realize I actually have Gerard Way’s phone number.

Not that I plan to use it or publish it on the internet. I decide to text him (not the wisest decision ever, some might say).  After pressing “send” with some difficulty – is this just stupid or what? - comes trying to get mom to think I’m going to school today. Mondays are boring – Math and Biology and stuff all day long, but a few missed lessons won’t affect my grades since I’m not getting high ones anyway. I’m not failing (B's and C’s have distinguished my grades in those subjects almost all of my school years despite my hatred towards them) but I know my mom is disappointed in me. Or was disappointed in me – nowadays she’s got two other kids to worry about.

I leave the comfort of my bed, and after sneaking into the shower, applying makeup and getting dressed (jeans, a band tee and the standard woolen cap), I’m ready to face the outside world. 

I race down the stairs with the guitar case in hand and my school bag thrown over my shoulder, and vaguely hear mom saying something about breakfast (for once) and Jamie saying “Bye Aubrey!” before I sprint down the sidewalk with my jacket in hand, making sure mom sees me from the kitchen window. I’m walking in direction of the bus stop, which coincidentally is in the direction of Red’s house.

The Baker’s basement has been my sanctuary for years, even before we started the band I spent most of my weekends at Red’s house. He lives with his mother and little sisters (his Dad found himself a younger woman when Red was just a kid and the twins were barely on their way) and Mrs Baker – who I know as just Alice – has always liked having us there.

A big german shepherd happily greets me as I open the front door. His name is Billie Joe – Riley, the nicer one of Red's sisters, and the Green Day fan of the family named him.

 

“Hey Aubrey,” Karl says as I walk in, or rather down, to where the drums and the amps already are set up. 

“Hey,” I reply, taking off my jacket and putting it on the back of a threadbare armchair.  Noel and Red are too deep into a discussion about some random band they disagree about to notice me, so I just set up my guitar and plug in the microphone. I’m ready in fifteen seconds, but Red and Noel are still talking.

“Guys, are we gonna practice or what?” 

No answer.

“Guys!”

“What?!” Red says, looking at me for the first time. Karl and I are used to this – the two other members of our band tend to have tunnel vision.

“I’m skipping school for this, come on!”

“You might not wanna say that too loud, I told mom we have the day off,” Red says, rising from his seat and sitting down behind the drum kit.

During the chorus of the first song, a buzzing from the cell phone in my pocket tells me I’ve got a new message. And seeing that the only one who would text me today is Gerard Way, I lose all concentration on what I’m doing.

The guys protest loudly when I suddenly go quiet, stop playing and flip my cell phone open, but I can’t hear them.

_ 1 new message from Gerard. _

I suddenly feel nauseous.

_ I didn’t think u would tell anyone ;) say hi to your sister from me, shes got a great music taste! /G _

I must have made some kind of impression despite my awkwardness, since he trusts me enough not to think I would tell the world what his phone number is. I can hardly contain my smile as I look up at the guys.

“Who was it from?” Noel says, causing me to smile even wider.

“No one… just the lead singer of a band I happen to like,” I say, and Karl lets out a low whistle.

“That Way guy?”

“Yeah, Jamie got lost yesterday and he found her, and called me since she had my phone number on her.”

“That's cool,” Karl says, and is rewarded with stares from Red and Noel. “Oh come on, I might not like his music that much but he’s hell of a lot more successful than we are, you have to admire that!”

Red groans, and puts his forehead on the drum nearest to him in desperation.

“You gotta be kidding me…!”

Ignoring Red, Karl says:

”But what’s he doing texting you?”

“Uh…” I say, that my face isn't as read as it feels. “I… um, I texted him earlier and said I wouldn’t publish his phone number on the internet.”

Karl smiles, but Noel and Red snicker.

“Aubrey’s got a crush!” they yell in unison.

“Shut up and no I haven’t!”

“Yes you do.”

“No I d…”

“Guys! Could we just drop this and get on with practicing?” Karl says before things get worse. “We have a very important gig in less than a week, remember?”

So after sticking my tongue out to Noel and Red, I get back in front of the microphone. Soon, we’re lunging into _Detention_ again, and this time we nail it.

-

The week passes without any major incidents. I get Red and Noel to go to school with me on Wednesday to catch up (well, it’s mostly me doing the catching up), but then we’re back in the basement again.

On Friday night, we sit down to come up with a playlist. At eleven thirty at night we know we should have done this earlier. 

“So, what do you think about… uh… Detention first or… maybe… Flicker?” Noel says, pulling his hair from his eyes like he always does when he’s uncertain about something. I sigh, Karl shrugs and Red says:

“Flicker is a fucking ballad, Noel, we can’t have that as our first song.”

“I vote Flicker as fourth,” I say.

“Yeah, if the crowd is right, otherwise we’ll have to go with something not as soft.”

“We should go with Teenagers then.”

The others look at me like I’m mad.

“Um, no offense, A… but just because it worked last time doesn’t mean it’ll work tomorrow,” Noel says, and the others nod. “I think we should do our own thing this time, I mean, who knows who’ll be there to listen.”

“Yeah, and this is no cover band either,” Red agrees. “And it’s a My Chem song, what will people think of us?”

“Come on, we totally owned last time we played it. And people won’t hate us because of one My Chem song, they do have a lot of fans out there.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Red mutters. I throw a handful of chips at him.

-

 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Don’t be such a wimp, it’s gonna look great.”

“Says you! I’m gonna look like fucking Billie Joe.”

“Hey! Billie Joe happens to be a very talented and good-looking man.”

“Yeah, I meant Billie Joe the dog.”

I’m dyeing Noel’s hair and he’s scared shitless. For the last two hours, we’ve been looking for different dyes, and ultimately we (me with Red and Karl saying “it’s gonna look awful” over my shoulder and Noel getting paler and paler) decided to make his newly cut, light brown hair almost black with the fringe very, very blonde. I don’t know what he’s so nervous about, I’ve dyed my own hair for ages.

“Hold still, you’re getting dye in your ear!”

“It’s not my fault it tickles!”

An hour later I have washed out most of the dye from Noel’s hair, and the four of us are hanging out in my room getting ready for tonight. I run around in a tank top and a pair of black drainpipe jeans, trying to decide which shirt to wear, and if red eyeshadow is taking it a step to far.

“Seriously?” Karl says when he sees me, when I’ve finally decided on a shirt to wear.

“Seriously.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow but decides not to say anything. 

Red is not like that.

“You can't wear that shirt", is the only thing he says.

“Red, it’s just a t-shirt."

“Just a t-shirt?!”

“Red, she’s right, and there’s really nothing wrong with My Chem,” Karl says, getting some kind of agreeing “hmph” from Noel who is busy reading a Spider-Man comic he found under my bed. Red sighs, defeated.

“It’s not my fault if they throw bottles…”

Before we can get into another argument, there is a knock on my bedroom door and mom says:

“Aubrey, I need you to watch Jamie tonight, Rick and I are going out.”

“What?!”

I open the door and come face to face with mom who’s standing there in what seems to be her nicest clothes. She gives me an annoyed look.

“Don’t be difficult now, Aubrey…”

“But I’ve told you, we have a gig in New York tonight!”

I can’t believe her. She’s never really cared about the things that are important for me but this is just too much.

“You have to cancel it.” 

I look behind me. Mom could have been standing there naked, judging by the looks on the guys’ faces. “I know you said you were going to New York tonight but don’t you think your little sister is a bit more important?”

“Where’s Elliott?” I ask, trying to keep calm while my brain is trying to come up with a solution.

“With Joan.” 

Joan Harris has been Mom’s best friend for as long as I can remember. I’ve always hated her. “You know she and Jamie don’t get along.”

“We’re not cancelling!” Red says when mom has left and I have closed the bedroom door again. He’s looking at me like I’m crazy (he does that a lot but now it’s with a more serious face).

“Come on, is that what you think of me?” I say, looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s nearly five pm, we’re leaving for Manhattan in half an hour. 

“So what are you gonna do?”

I ignore their confusion, and look out the window to see Mom and Rick drive away. Jamie is downstairs watching tv, and I walk out of the room and down to where she is.

“Jamie, what do you say about going to New York?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jamie is cute, Gerard is also cute, and Aubrey is crushing awkwardly.

It’s a small club in the basement in the Village, but Karl and Red assure us that it’s going to be packed with people tonight – The Grudge’s “rookie nights” are apparently popular.  We meet the owner, a middle-aged thin man with greying hair who’s dressed like a rock star, at the bar. He tells us to call him Greg.

“So, you’re… Infinity? Is that right?” 

We all nod, and then Greg turns his attention to Jamie, who is standing next to me looking cute in her black skirt, striped tights and Green Day t-shirt (I bought all of those clothes for her – you wouldn’t expect mom to dress her daughter in clothes like that). He gives me a questioning look.

“She’s our mascot,” Karl says. 

Greg shrugs.

“Well, she’s your responsibility either way.”

None of us are 21, especially not Jamie, but the Greg says that he won’t tell if we don’t – they’ll even get us drinks if we promise not to get too drunk to play. Greg also informs us that there are two other bands playing tonight, and that our soundcheck is in half an hour. Then he shows us the dressing room located behind the stage were we can keep our stuff. After our most efficient soundcheck ever, we're pretty much on our own.

Ten minutes later, we have ended up in a record store on Bleecker Street on our way to Starbucks. I’m desperate for a latte, but Karl, Red, Noel and Jamie are gone in five seconds, swallowed by the wonders of the record store. 

Not feeling like blending with the locals and the tourists, I place myself on a bench outside. Next to me is a girl my age wearing a My Chemical Romance cap, tying her shoelaces and talking to what seems to be her father in a language I don’t understand. Tourists. At least she has a good taste in music.  I shouldn’t be thinking bad things about tourists, since I’m bridge-and-tunnel myself and the native New Yorkers think we’re vermin, but some tourists are really strange... We don’t get that many of them in Madison, “The Rose City”, but the ones we do get are always weird Germans or loud French students on road trips.

The lack of coffee makes my mind wander aimlessly. Knowing my bandmates and my sister, they will probably stay in that record store for over an hour.

Driven by the lack of lattes, I text Karl saying I’m leaving, and then look around for the nearest Starbucks. This area isn’t exactly full of them, but I manage to find one a few blocks away, and it’s not packed with people. 

After ordering and getting my drink, I sit down by one of the window tables and start flipping through one of the magazines on the table. To avoid any more wandering of the mind, I plunge into an article about sport diving – I have forty minutes to myself before I have to be back at the club, and I’d rather not spend that time thinking about tourists.

Not that sport diving is very interesting. Nor is hiking in the Canadian wilderness, which is what the next article I read is about. Why don’t they have any good magazines here?

After ten minutes I’m bored out of my mind. Luckily, that’s when I hear _in the middle of a gun fight, in the center of a restaurant, they say, come with your arms raised high_ from somewhere close to me. It takes me a good five seconds to figure out that it’s my cell phone (I’ve changed the signal again) and dig it out from my bag. I’m in such a hurry to answer it that I don’t bother to see who it is before I flip the phone open and put it to my ear, but I’m thinking that it’s probably the guys wondering where I am.

“I knew it was you!” a fairly familiar but still not recognizable voice says after my “Hello?”

“Uh… excuse me?”

“I’m coming over.” Click.

I peek to my right to see if anyone is approaching, and see a pair of black chucks walking towards me, attached to black jeans. Chucks are always a good sign. The shoes and jeans are followed by a black jacket and hands in fingerless gloves, and the hood of a black sweatshirt is pulled over the jacket’s collar. 

And my breath is caught in my throat.

“Aubrey?” Gerard says as he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table, and puts down his coffee mug on it. “I tried calling your name but you didn’t hear me. I just wanted to see if it really was you.” 

I’m currently at a loss for words, but Gerard just leans over to see what I’m reading. “Hiking, huh?”

Finally finding out how to use my vocal cords, I say:  “Not really, I’m just bored.” Yay, I've managed to form a coherent sentence for once.

“Well, you seemed pretty into it…”

“Bored but concentrated, then. It’s latte literature."

Gerard makes a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a high-pitched giggle that makes me smile, and then he says:

“I should go hiking. Somewhere in like, what’s this from,” he takes a look at the upside-down article again, “yeah, Canada, that would be great. Take some time off and just climb a mountain or something.”

“By yourself?”

“Well, I could bring Frank but he’d probably hurt himself.”

“But if you’d go alone nobody could save you from the grizzly bears,” I say, and Gerard nods slowly, seemingly in deep thought.

“Yeah, you’re right… bears are scary. Maybe hiking isn’t such a good idea after all.”

We smile at each other, and I actually manage not to blush that much. 

“Don’t you have like bodyguards or something?” I ask out of the blue. Gerard shakes his head:

“Nah, not today. Brian doesn’t like it, but I think I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

With my face emotionless and voice serious, I say:

“But what if I’m some insane fangirl… who has planned all this to be able to kidnap you?”

Gerard laughs, causing me to lose my straight face. 

“I think I’ll take that risk.”

We sit in silence for a few seconds, me looking at him in the corner of my eye while he looks out the window. What is he doing here, and why is he even talking to me? I’m just some girl he met last week, he shouldn’t even remember me.

“So, what brings you to New York?” he asks, looking at me again, and I snap out of my confused thoughts.

“We’re playing here tonight,” I say, and Gerard looks surprised.

“You’re in a band?” 

“Yes, I am.”

“And… you’re playing at The Grudge?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just funny, ‘cause I’m going there tonight too,” he says. “We’re leaving for Europe tomorrow, just thought I’d check out some new music.”

I have to focus, so I won’t faint and fall off the chair or something. 

Gerard Way is going to see us play. I managed to get the guys to agree to play Teenagers, but now it doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.  I think Gerard senses my discomfort.

“But I guess I don’t need to come if you don’t want me to... Are you okay?” he says, looking concerned. I put my hands on the table to keep them still.

“Uh, I… no, of course you can come, it’s just… I suddenly feel a little… nervous. Nothing to worry about,” I say, managing a strained smile. Of course I want him to come, I want him to hear us because his band has been my inspiration and although his band hasn’t saved my life, it has had an enormous impact on it. I want to give something back.

But I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this. Everything has happened so fast; we were unbelievably lucky just to get this gig and I’ve been incredibly nervous, and if I know Gerard is listening I will probably fall off the stage or something.

“Just a little?” he says. “We’ll keep in the background, I promise.”

“We?”

“Frank and Ray are coming too.”

“Oh God.”

I need air. I get up and is followed by Gerard, who asks me again if I’m okay. I smile weakly at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more okay in my life.”

 

-

 

Red calls and says that they are heading back to the club. I ask Gerard if he wants to come, against my better judgement. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to faint on me,” he says, and I laugh.

“Hey, I’m not making any promises.”

As we start to walk down the sidewalk, Gerard pulls the hood over his head.

“Keeps the fangirls away,” he says, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“I’m a fangirl.”

“No you’re not – you’re a fan,” he retorts. “There’s a big difference. Fangirls want to make out with me at any price, they’re fucking crazy.”

“I thought you liked your fans?” I say, an bite my lip while waiting for his reaction. I didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation.

“I love fans,” he says, giving me a sideway smile. “It’s just… I don’t know, it’s just the ‘I want to have sex with Gerard’ that I’m uncomfortable with. It’s just not about the music.”

I nod, not really knowing what to say. When I started listening to My Chemical Romance I often asked myself whether I liked them because of the music or because I thought they were cute or hot, but as I grew older, those thoughts weren’t needed – because there has been times when the darkness didn’t seem to have and end to it, and listening to My Chem made me feel better.

Well, I  _would_ sleep with Gerard if he wanted me to. That's just the way it is. But at least I'm not throwing myself at him.

We go down the stairs leading to the underground club. Karl and Red are sitting by the closed bar, talking, and Noel is a few tables away, talking to what seems to be a sound tech.

“Gerard!!!” Jamie squeals when she sees him, and immediately runs towards him. 

“Jamie!!!” he squeals back, and bend down to give her a bear hug. Life is simple when you’re five years old.

“What’s you doing here?”

“Well, I was walking into Starbucks and there I saw Aubrey, so I thought I’d stay and talk to her. And then I wanted to come back with her so I could see you, of course!”

Jamie’s eyes go wide.

“Really?” she says, showing off her cute white teeth in a smile. 

“Yes, really!”

“Awesome! Can I get a piggyback ride?”

With Jamie positioned on Gerard’s shoulders, we walk over to the rest of the band. Karl has now acknowledged that I’m not alone, and gives me a surprised look before laughing out loud.

“Well this was a bit… random. Aubrey, we’ve talked about this, you can’t go around kidnapping people!” he says, and I roll my eyes. Gerard just laughs.

“If you must know, Karl, Gerard came here out of his own free will."

“Whatever you say.” He gets up from his seat to shake Gerard’s hand. “Karl Henderson, nice to meet you… and don’t go anywhere alone with her, you don’t know how many times we’ve had to pry her from the television screen when she’s watching some dvd with you in it…”

“Shut up, Karl.”

“Sorry, that was a lie. Aubrey’s a really nice girl,” Karl says, and Gerard, who has been shaking with suppressed laughter during Karl’s little monologue, says: 

“Yeah, I’m sure she is,” smiling at me. 

Remember what I said about crazy butterflies? Forget about the crack – now it feels like they’re going to start pouring out of my mouth any second.

“This quiet man here is Red Baker, drums, and over there is Noel Murray who plays bass,” Karl says, pointing them out to Gerard. 

Red is eyeing Gerard up and down, like he’s trying to work out how much of a danger he is to us. I want to kick him in the shin for being so rude, but manage not to. It’s not my fault Red’s being an ass.

Oblivious to Red’s vicious stares, Gerard starts talking to Karl about the other bands playing tonight, still with Jamie on his shoulders. She seems perfectly content with life, playing with Gerard’s hair and looking at the world from another perspective. 

I dig up my cell phone from my pocket to check the time – soundcheck starts in half an hour, but none of the other bands seem to be here yet. I ask Red about this, partly to make him stop throwing hateful looks at Gerard. What’s the matter with him, anyway? I know he doesn’t like MCR, but this is taking it a bit too far.

“I dunno,” he says, looking gloomy. “They’ll be here, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worrying, I was just asking,” I say, trying not to echo his annoyed tone of voice.

Just then, a bunch of guys stumble down the stairs. All of them are dressed like you expect the members of an emo/punk/rock band to be dressed, chucks and eyeliner and drainpipe jeans as far as the eye can see. They straighten themselves out and look around, and after seeing us, they walk over.

“Are you playing here too?” a guy with green bangs and the rest of his hair black and cut short says, looking between Red and me, and when I nod he looks over at Karl and Gerard. “Hey, you’re Gerard Way!”

“Yes, I am,” Gerard says, letting Jamie down on the floor (‘I don’t wanna go down!’). 

The rest of the guy’s band file up next to him, all of them looking at Gerard with shocked confusion on their faces without saying anything. 

“So, people, who are you exactly?” Karl says, saving Gerard from further embarrassment. 

The newcomers introduce themselves as a band called Mourning Dove. They all seem nice enough, but I have more important things to worry about – one of them being the fact that three of the members of my favorite band are going to see us play. I go talk to Noel and his new friend the sound tech to ease my nerves. Soon we’re joined by Gerard and Jamie, the first of which has grown tired of being stared at by Mourning Dove and the second just following Gerard because he is, well, Gerard.

“When are Ray and Frank coming?” I ask, trying to seem natural. 

“Not until later, I think… They’re off visiting girlfriends and family,” Gerard says. I quirk an eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you?”

He shrugs.

“My parents are on vacation. I’m staying at a hotel, didn’t want to be in an empty house… and well, since I’m without girlfriend at the moment…” he trails off, and I don’t ask more since it would feel like prying. And why do I get all happy because he doesn’t have a girlfriend? He apparently doesn’t like talking about it, suggesting he’s not delighted with life as single. I have nothing to be happy about. I really don't.

A number of possibilities don’t cross my mind at all. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey is still very much eighteen, Red is rude, Frank gives Aubrey questionable advise on hair dye, and Gerard flirts shamelessly.

I’m thankful for the spotlights blinding me as I go on stage, otherwise I would have seen the entire crowd. There are so many of them, people everywhere who are here to listen to us (and two other bands, but anyway), and the thought of that, plus knowing that Gerard, Frank and Ray are out there too is enough to make my knees go weak. I manage to stand upright, but my hands are shaking as I pull the guitar strap over my head and step in front of the microphone.

It seems our six-song set ends far too soon, and then we are leaving the stage to make room for the last band. We put our instruments in the dressing room that we share with the two other bands, and then we go our separate ways – Red and Noel walk off towards the bar, and Karl and I make our way to where we last saw Gerard and Jamie, at the back of the club where they were still able to see the stage. 

I should be nervous again because Frank and Ray are probably going to be there, but I’m not – partly because I’m still on a high from our performance, but also because I think the ‘wow-they’re-famous’-feeling has worn off from being around Gerard for so long. Well, not long really, but long enough to make me feel this way. I can’t fight the part of me that’s anxiously wondering what they thought of us, though.

Jamie, who’s wearing big, pink ear defenders, is sitting on Ray’s lap, laughing at something Frank has just said. Gerard is standing next to them, looking around searching for something… or someone. He grins as he sees us and I smile back, and still influenced by the adrenaline rush of being on stage, I greet him with a hug. He hugs me back tightly (and I take in everything about him, the way he smells – mostly of cigarettes – and the way his hair feels against my cheek) and then lets go, looks me in the eye and exclaims:

“You guys were awesome!"

Here I go with the blushing again. I mutter some kind of ‘thanks’, looking at Karl for help. The last band has started to play, but they are more of the acoustic type so we don’t have to scream to be able to have a conversation.

“Thanks, it really means a lot to us,” Karl says, just as Frank and Ray walk over, Frank with black jeans, a black and white-striped t-shirt and Converse, and Ray in grey jeans and a band tee. Jamie is holding Frank’s hand and her face is practically glowing with pride because of it.

“I have to say… you’ve got something here,” Frank says, smiling at me and Karl. “You’re Aubrey, right? Great singing and I have to say that that’s really a nice t-shirt.”

“Hah, thanks."

“Yeah, I agree!” Ray says, also smiling at me. I smile back, blushing even more but praying it doesn’t show in the dimly lit club. “Teenagers, I was like… wow. How long have you been doing this?”

Karl and I look at each other, trying to telepathically decide who’s going to talk. Karl speaks.

“About a year,” he says. “You want a demo?”

Great going Karl, I think, now they think we just wanted them to come so they can pass along demos. Frank looks at Ray who looks at Gerard, who says:

”Yeah, I guess…”

“Great!” 

And then Karl is off, quickly making his way backstage were Red put the demos.

“Uh… sorry about that,” I say. “We don’t expect you to do anything with it, it’s just fun to… I dunno, get some constructive criticism.”

“No worries. You guys are good, it’ll be nice to have something new to listen to,” Frank says, smiling reassuringly with Ray nodding at his side. 

I’m smiling so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt. Gerard places a hand on my shoulder:

“Hey, you might wanna stop that before she passes out.”

“Oooh, a fangirl?” Frank says. “I never would have thought.”

“Thanks a lot, Gerard,” I say, rolling my eyes. The others just laugh.

Jamie, who has been quiet the whole time, start tugging at Frank’s hand.

“Fraaank, piggyback?”

 

-

 

I don’t want the night to end, but as all nights do, it has to. After listening to the last song of the acoustic people, we gather our stuff from the dressing room, stop to chat with Greg about our payment (he even says that we’ll keep in touch, because he may want us to play there again) and then we’re outside. It’s mid-March and since it’s nearing one a.m., it’s quite cold. Red has already started to load stuff into the van, which is parked about ten yards away. It couldn’t be more obvious that he wants to leave – he keeps giving us meaningful looks and puts the equipment down with as much force as he can without damaging it. It doesn’t bother me, though, because I have much more important things to worry about.

“So…” Gerard says, sticking his glove-clad hands into his pockets.

“Exactly,” Frank says. “Best of luck to you guys.”

“Thanks,” I say. It feels like my heart is ripping in two – I hate goodbyes and this one is particularly heavy. It’s not that I know these guys very well, but even so, they have meant so much to me for such a long time – I would be crazy not to feel sad about leaving them. If a thing called sense of reality didn’t exist, I would have thought that Gerard felt the same way. He may not feel the butterflies like I do (because that’s downright impossible – I don’t think anyone has butterflies as crazy as mine) but he sure seems a bit reluctant to leave.

“I guess we should be going. It’s been really nice seeing you… again,” he says, smiling at me.

“Yeah, you too. Have fun in Europe.”

Just as they have turned around and started walking away and we have done the same, I hear a voice behind me yelling “hey, Aubrey!” I turn again, and see that Gerard have done the same. 

“We’ll keep in touch, okay?”

"Yeah." I don’t even have time to get nervous. Of course we’ll keep in touch if he wants us to.

Gerard grins before turning around again and jog in the opposite direction to catch up with Ray and Frank. 

During the ride back to Madison, we are all unusually quiet until Karl says:

“What I’d really like to know is why Red acted like a jerk around Gerard.”

Karl is driving, Noel’s riding shotgun (fast asleep, which is kind of rude) and Red, Jamie and I are in the back. Jamie is also asleep, lying down in her seat with her head in my lap.

”What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Karl looks at Red in the rearview mirror.

“It means that you acted like a jerk around him without any reason whatsoever.”

“I don’t like him.”

Karl lets out a snort.

“What has he ever done to you?!”

“He’s a fucking sellout, that’s what he is!”

“How can you say that, you don’t even know him!” I say, feeling the heat from the anger rise to my cheeks.

“All they’ve done is to release two shit records and get a bunch of teeny fans! They’re not about real music, he’s such a fucking emo loser it’s pathetic.”

At first I’m speechless. I’ve always known Red to be a bit aggressive about which bands he thinks you should and shouldn’t listen to, but this is ridiculous.

“First of all, that’s three records, two of which you haven’t even heard!”  Red mutters something about ‘whatever’.  “Red, you don’t have a fucking clue what Gerard has been through.”

“Neither do you!” he retorts, looking at me angrily. “You think you’re so special ‘cause you and him had a little chat and he wants to hear from you again, but the truth is that you’re just like all of those other fans, you just want to sleep with him!"

The tears have started to sting in my eyes. I always cry when I get angry and I hate it, it makes me look completely desperate.  Karl steps in.

“Just shut up for a few seconds, Red. You may not like the band but that is no reason to talk to Aubrey like that. Listen to yourself, man, you’re not making any sense.”

“She’s not making any sense either! Talking to that guy like they’re best friends or something. You know what…” he says, sighing and looking at me. “You’re no better than a freaking groupie.”

I snap.

“That’s it! Stop the car, I’m walking.”

“No you’re not and Red, just shut the fuck up or you’re gonna be the one walking,” Karl says without taking his eyes from the road but gripping the steering wheel tightly. Red throws me a dirty look and I can feel the tears starting to come, what the fuck is wrong with him, he’s never been this way before…

The rest of the car ride passes in silence. When we get to mine and Jamie’s house, the lights are still on in the living room and I can feel the panic rising – mom and Rick are still awake. I’m in so much trouble.

I carry Jamie up the porch while Karl gets my stuff and helps me get it inside. And so, after giving me a reassuring smile and a ‘good luck’ and walking back to the car, I step into hell.

 

-

 

The New York episode leaves me some slight bruising on my left forearm where Rick grabbed me. The man hates me even more now and mom hasn’t spoken to me since, but that doesn’t really matter – what does matter, though, is that I’m not allowed to babysit Jamie and Elliott.  Now they're left with Joan or random babysitters when Mom and Rick are away, and I only get to see them in the mornings and at night before their bedtime. 

Another person who doesn’t speak to me unless it’s absolutely necessary is Red. Karl and Noel are their normal selves, playing stupid pranks on each other and me, but between me and Red it’s like a wall of ice that’s not expected to melt anytime soon. I have nothing to apologize for but Red seems to think so, and Karl keeps telling me to talk to him about it but I don’t really have a problem him anymore – it’s just him still thinking I’m a groupie. 

Let’s just say my visits to the Baker’s house become less frequent and only has to do with band practice. 

In the middle of April (about a month after our Manhattan gig) at eight fifteen on a Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of _in the middle of a gun fight…_ I haven’t changed the signal for almost a month, it’s a personal record. Still with my face buried in the pillow, I reach over to the night stand and manage to grab the phone almost instantly, despite my non-seeing state.

“’Ello?” I say in a sleepy voice. There is a rustling noise and people laughing, and then:

“Aubrey?”

“No, it’s just her cell phone’s answering person, since Aubrey herself is still asleep.”

Whoever is calling laughs in my ear. 

“Sarcastic even in her sleep,” he says.

“Uh… who is this?” I ask, although the second I say it I realize where I’ve heard that voice before. I turn around so I’m not face down into the pillow anymore. 

“The most good-looking guy you’ll ever meet!” he says, earning more laughter in the background and someone, probably Frank, says: “You wish!”

“Oh my God, is this Johnny Depp?!” I exclaim, although still hoarse from sleep.

“Ouch.”

“That’s what you get from calling too early in the morning,” I say, smiling at no one in particular. “Um… where are you?”

“Denmark.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah… hey, listen, I’m sorry for not calling sooner.”

Hell, I’m happy he called at all, that the last words he said to me meant something. But I guess I should have expected them to.

“Uh… it’s okay,” I say. _Stupid._

“So… what have you been up to?” he asks. “How’s the band going?”

Deciding not to burden him with Red’s behavior, I tell him about all the gigs we have, the people asking for autographs (still getting used to that), the lack of demos to be sold (we've run out of them) and the record company guy who talked to us last week.

“Just don’t let him get you into things you don’t want to,” Gerard says when I’ve finished. “You should be picky about record labels because trust me, there probably are a lot more people who would like to sign you.”

“Really?” I say. “Well… thanks for the advise.”

”No problemos,” he says. “So, anything special happening today?”

“Uh, no, well... I'm just gonna avoid being in the house, I think I’m going shopping.”

“You're avoiding the house?"

Yes, because talking to Gerard about how I still live at home and still am in high school was just what I wanted. "Yeah, mom's been a little tense since I took Jamie with me to New York,” I say, now sitting up, throwing the covers aside and reaching for my sweatpants. “I was supposed to babysit her.”

“But you did babysit her.”

“Yeah, but babysitting in a noisy club is not the best idea ever, to be honest… But, you know, I've been taking care of her since she was born. It's not like I would let anything happen."  The noise around Gerard has quieted down a bit.

“Of course not,” he says. “You know, we’re getting back to the states in a few days, we should hang out.”

I smile again and my insides do some kind of happy dance. 

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve just stepped out of the shower and am toweling my hair. I need to dye it again, I realize as I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My natural, dirty blonde color is starting to show at the roots and I hate it. Maybe Noel can do it for me this time.

Mom and Rick are at work, as always, and they have already dropped off Jamie and Elliott at Joan’s. Jamie hates it there; every time I see her she gives me a spiteful look and asks why she has to go there when I’m better at babysitting than Joan.

I never know what to say. I’m leaving home as soon as I graduate, at least I’m planning to, and then who knows when I’ll see her again? It’s better not to think about it, but every time she asks it feels like a stab through the heart.

I leave without having breakfast, and walk to the bus stop with my headphones on, listening to another of Karl’s masterpieces that he sent yesterday. Walking creates lyrics, I’ve come to realize after writing songs since I was thirteen. Even if it’s just a five-minute walk to the bus stop. It doesn’t always work, but today I’m lucky – as soon as I sit down on the bus, I dig out a pen and my note pad from the depths of my backpack and start scribbling on what may be the beginnings of another song. 

Shopping by yourself isn’t much fun – no one to tell you what clothes to go for or having coffee with in between shopping sessions – but today, I need my space. I’ve been around the band for so much lately that it feels like I’ve forgotten what other people are like. I spend half an hour window shopping before having to get coffee (because, well, coffee), and then get to what I actually came here for. I’ve just started to think about turning my hair purple when I’m (thankfully) interrupted by my cell phone telling me I have a new message.

_soundcheck in 5 min… what r u up 2?_

I quickly type my reply.

_buying hairdye, what should I get?_

It takes a minute for his answer to travel from Denmark to New Jersey.

_frank thinks pink, g (aka me) thinks u’d look gr8 in anything :) going on stage now, xoxo /f & g_

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get this band thing on the road, apparently. And some of the fluff, as well.

We finish the song in the afternoon, and in celebration of this quick songwriting (we usually take at least a week, and that’s working at a quick pace – sometimes none of us has inspiration and songs can be lying around for ages without being finished) Noel dyes my hair. When we’re done, after several hours of first bleaching my black hair and then applying the new color, my hair is a dark shade of red.

Red is even moodier than usual, looking at me from behind his shaggy brown hair like I’m the reason his dog died or something. Only Billie Joe (the german shepherd) isn’t dead, so there must be something else on his mind.

When we leave the basement after several more hours of practicing, I get another text from Gerard. The show is over and they’re heading to a hotel, and they met some fans who tried to French-kiss Frank. It also says _I'll call u 2morrow_ , which leaves me sleepless for most of the night.

 

He does call, at five thirty in the morning. Face down into the pillow again, I don’t even have the energy to open my eyes. I just press what I think is the answering button and put the phone to my ear.

“Uh… Aubrey? You there?”

“Mmm.”

“What time is it… oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

“S’okay.”

He laughs, a soft sound that’s enough to make me forget any evil thoughts about what I’d do to the person who’s stupid enough to call at five thirty in the morning. He’s in Denmark, so he’s entitled to be confused.

“You sure? It sounds like you’re talking to the pillowcase.”

Pillow talk, I manage to think through the fog of sleep that is my mind at the moment, but I’m too tired to even smile at my own joke.

“I am,” I say.

“Well that explains it,” he says. “I’ll let you go back to sleep in a second, I just… well, I missed you.”

What a great dream. I decide to play along.

Because this can be nothing but a dream, right?

“I miss you too.”

“Really?” He sounds surprised but somehow happy.

I never knew dreams could be this realistic.

“Mhm.”

“Don’t fall asleep yet, Aub.” Oooh, nickname. I have to make sure I write all this down when I wake up. “We’re boarding in an hour or so, and we’re landing at like two thirty, you wanna come meet us at the airport?”

“Mm… what, today?”

“No, tomorrow. Yes, today. Newark Airport.”

“I’ll…” … yawn… “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” he says. I just want to sleep. Go away Gerard, you’re disturbing my dream of you. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Mhm. Fly safe.”

I fall asleep almost instantly, with the phone still at my ear.

Four hours later, at nine thirty, I wake up to the sound of Jamie yelling at Elliott for playing with her cd player. What a great dream I had, it should be in a fanfiction or something.

As I sit up and pull off the covers, something scrambles to the floor. My cell phone. How did it end up there?

Slap in the face.

Gerard.

Airport.

“Oh. My. God,” I say out loud, looking through the list of recent calls. 5.27 a.m. – Gerard.

It takes me more than three hours to take a shower, have breakfast, decide on an outfit, apply make-up, straighten my hair and look up which bus I can take to the airport. There’s no way Mom will let me have the car.

I look at my reflection in the mirror as I’m about to walk downstairs. For once, I’m actually quite happy with how I look. The red hair was a success. It’s under control since I actually bothered to straighten it. My makeup is tolerable. My favorite clothes were actually clean instead of in a heap on the bedroom floor, so now I’m wearing a pair of black drainpipe jeans and a green and black-striped tank top, as well as a Dead! hoodie.

The only problem is that the butterflies are going crazy again. Breathe in.

Out. In… out.

It’s just Gerard.

You’ve met him before. He’s that nice guy who found Jamie at the mall. He’s a normal guy.

It’s just him and his bandmates.

It’s just My Chemical Romance.

 

I’m early. 90 minutes to be exact, but who’s counting? Good thing there’s a Starbucks in the arrival area, or I probably would have passed out.

I try to write, but nothing comes out of it – I keep checking the time and the screen showing the estimated arrival times, and that leaves no room for creativity.

The newspaper doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t know before. I should have brought a book. That way, I wouldn’t have had time to think.

Who am I kidding? Gerard may have said he missed me, but did he mean anything by it?

And did I mean anything when I said I missed him too? He’s beautiful, something I don’t deserve, he’s much older than me, he’s…

… the first guy to ever pay any closer attention to me.

It’s no lie, even though I want it to be. I’m eighteen years old and haven’t been in a proper relationship. The first time I had sex was with a guy from my Home Ed class, on a dare during a party at Karl’s house. I’ve made out with a few guys at parties but we were both drunk, it was always the alcohol that made it happen, in “real life” I’m always the shy one or the weird one or the tomboyish one, not girlfriend material.

And that’s why Gerard telling me I would look good in anything freaks me out. 

How can I assume anything's going to happen?

 

“I thought I said pink!” Frank calls out as soon as he sees me.

Gerard is nowhere to be seen, but the rest of them are there, carrying or dragging large bags and with a security guard at their tail. He gives me and intimidating stare, as if saying ‘don’t you dare try to French-kiss them!’

“She knows better than to take advise from an Iero,” Mikey says, and Frank gives him an evil look, which Mikey returns with a innocent smile and a shrug.

I shake hands with Bob and Mikey, and before I can react, both Frank and Ray have hugged me.

“Uh, where’s Gerard?” I manage to ask, despite the starstruck butterflies wreaking havoc again. Stupid insects.

Frank giggles and shares a knowing look with Ray which I pretend not to notice, and Bob says:

“Stuck in customs. They probably think he looks like a terrorist.”

“No they don’t, that customs guard wanted an autograph for his daughter,” Mikey says. Just then, the man himself (Gerard, that is) comes walking towards us with a bag thrown over his shoulder, and with another security guard following his every move. When he reaches our little gathering, he puts down the threadbare bag at his feet.

“Did he behave?” Frank asks.

“What? Who?” Gerard says, confused, not really looking at us but giving the Starbucks sign loving looks. Then he turns to us and says: “Oh yeah, the customs guy? He just wanted me to sign some magazine.”

Suddenly, his gaze is turned to me, like he’s seeing me for the first time (which he probably is, since he apparently is in need of caffeine). He smiles. “I half expected you to forget I even called.”

I smile back, trying to keep the unruly emotions in check.

“Might have. Thank God for caller ID!”

We stand there smiling goofily at each other for a moment, and I suddenly don’t really care if I look like a dork. If I would have been a little more aware of my surroundings, I might have noticed Mikey giving Frank a questioning look which he returns with a meaningful nod in mine and Gerard’s direction, followed by a smirk and a silent chuckle from the younger of the Way brothers.

I don’t notice, though. And suddenly Gerard is close to me and we’re hugging, not in a quick, polite way but in some kind of intimate way, with his arms securely wrapped around me and it’s all Gerard’s hair, the warmth of his body.

Normal hugs last for a split second between people who hardly know each other. All in all, I’ve been in Gerard’s presence for a few hours.

But his breath is in in my ear and his heartbeats are close and I never want this to end.

It does end, though. I pray that nobody notices the blush that creeps to my cheeks again.

In thirty minutes I will be convinced that I was alone in feeling this way. But right now, when Gerard smiles at me and puts his hand to the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner before turning to ask Frank something, I’m certain that there’s something there.

Gerard gets his precious coffee, and after hearing Mikey complain loudly that he only has Euros to pay with, we all contribute with a few coins each to buy him a cup of his own.

“Otherwise we would have been deaf by the time we got home,” Bob sighs.

Outside, we manage to catch two cabs, Ray, Mikey and Bob squeeze into one of them and Gerard, Frank and I get into the other.

Three people in the backseat means sitting very close to each other, and since Frank practically pushes me in front of him so I get to sit in the middle, I’m squeezed between the two of them for the next twenty-five minutes. 

“Uh… Aubrey, we kinda forgot to ask you… do you wanna go home or something?” Frank says after a few minutes of silence.

“Uh… I… well I… we have a gig tonight, but I won’t have to be there until eight or so,” I say, feeling unbearably unsure of myself. “Where are we going, then?” It’s hard to speak since I’m so very aware of the nearness of Gerard’s body.

“Well I think the guys wanna go home for a bit, so I guess we could just… hang out somewhere,” Gerard says.

“’Somewhere’ being…?” Frank asks, and Gerard shrugs a little.

“I dunno, maybe we could go somewhere to eat or something. But hey, don’t you wanna be with Jamia?”

“’Course, but she’s visiting her parents, won’t get back until tomorrow morning,” Frank says, obviously a little disappointed but not showing it too much. “And I couldn’t leave you two alone anyway.” _Knees, look at his knees, or even better – look at your own knees._

I really don’t want to look at Gerard but curiosity gets the better of me. He’s not looking at me, though, which saves me from further embarrassment.  For a second I can see myself putting my head on his shoulder, but I quickly dismiss the idea – I don’t know why really, it just doesn’t seem like the right thing to do. (And it would be just a little awkward with Frank there.)

“All right, but I need to get home before the gig, get my stuff and change clothes, you know…” I say. Gerard looks at me like I’m crazy, and suddenly our faces are too close for it to be completely comfortable. I look down again.

“What’s wrong with the way you look now?” he asks, bewildered. I’m not going to argue about that, there’s really nothing wrong – except for one tiny detail.

“My guitar is in my room."

“Hmm.” He seems to be in deep thought for a few moments.

“Get your bandmates to get that for you. Or let me interpret for you, since you don’t speak Gerard: If you'd like to, we want you to hang out with us, and especially Gee,” Frank says, grinning at his own joke.

“Shut up, Frank.”

But this time Gerard glances at me and then quickly looks away when I meet his gaze, turning his face towards the window.

I return to my studying of the knees, trying to contain my smile.

We get dropped off just a few blocks away from The Grudge. Ray, Bob and Mikey all have gone home, but Gerard calls them and tells them to get their asses into the city for our gig tonight. Somehow, all the luggage ended up in the other car - good for us, but worse for the others who have to take Frank's and Gerard's unwashed clothes with them tonight.

I call Karl and tell him to get my things.

“You expect me to tell the difference between the emerald eyeshadow and the woody green one?” he says when I try to tell him what make-up to get.

“Yes.”

“You’re overestimating me.”

“Light green and yellowish green, then?”

“Hm. I might be able to tell the difference. But why can’t you get it yourself?”

“Because Gerard called me at five thirty and asked me to come meet them at the airport.”

There is a slight silence.

“There’s something going on between you and him, isn’t there?” he says, amusement evident in his voice. I clear my throat while trying to come up with something to say.

“I don’t know,” is my lame reply. I can see Gerard giving me a look from where he and Frank are, like it's not hard at all to figure out what I'm talking about. Karl laughs.

“You don't know, or you just don’t want to admit it?” he says. “All right, I’ll get your stuff. Seven thirty?”

“Yeah."

“And take it easy with Gerard.”

“Shut up.”

“Thanks a lot!” There is another pause, in which I think of Red. Apparently, Karl does the same. “You know Red’s gonna be pissed, right?”

 

After we hang up, I turn around to see Frank and Gerard waiting for me.

“Lunch?”

We find a small restaurant a five-minute walk away that has a decent vegetarian menu. The waitress who serves us obviously recognizes Gerard and Frank, but not in a fangirly way – she smiles at me just as much as she smiles at them, although with a curious expression on her face. She shows us to an available four-seat table and Gerard and I sit on one side, while Frank takes the other.

After ordering our food (veggie burger for Frank, caesar salad for me and some kind of chicken salad for Gerard), Frank and Gerard get into a conversation about the upcoming leg of the tour, while I sit in silence, watching them.

I really am extremely lucky. If anyone would have told me a few months ago that I’d be having lunch with two of the members of My Chemical Romance, I would never have believed them. Me, and My Chemical Romance?

Me and Gerard?

But it doesn’t feel all that strange to be around them. I usually find it a bit hard to talk to people I don’t know that well – I might talk but I sure as hell don’t feel comfortable – but recently I’ve discovered that it totally depends on what kind of people I’m around. Frank and Gerard are people I can get along with just fine without feeling uncomfortable at all (unless I’m crammed in a backseat with them, that is).

I don’t know why I ordered caesar salad, I don’t even like salad. At least Gerard’s looks a little more edible, with meat in it instead of mostly breadcrumbs.

I poke around with my fork without any appetite, partly because I’m not very hungry but also because the thought he’ll never feel the same has crept into my mind.

I’m so stupid.

But what about that hug? What about what Frank said?

_But you don’t know._

I don’t know how people are supposed to act in these situations, I don’t know how guys show interest when they’re not drunk, I don’t know why I’m even bothering thinking about it because it’s Gerard Way and I’m just an unknown eighteen-year-old from Madison, New Jersey.

Gerard probably senses my discomfort, because he takes a break from eating his salad – more chicken than green stuff in it so you can say it’s chicken with salad – and asks if there’s something wrong.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing,” I say, trying to dismiss it.

“Really? You look kinda down,” he says.

What am I supposed to say? No, I’m just a little concerned about the fact that I’ve known you for an insignificant amount of time and I’m already developing a fierce crush on you, don't worry about it.

Aren’t these things supposed to take time?

“It’s because of the salad,” I say, holding up a lettuce leaf with my fork to demonstrate.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I’m not very hungry..."

“You should try some chicken, this is awesome!”

And before I can protest, he has stabbed a piece of chicken on his fork and put it in front of me.

“Hmm, this is good. I might rethink my hungriness,” I say, smiling despite my previous worries and chewing happily.

Gerard smiles brightly. On the other side of the table, Frank rolls his eyes.

“Way to make me feel like the third wheel, guys.”

“Aww, you want chicken too Frankie?” Gerard says, and I admire his ability not to seem embarrassed.

“No.”

“Then what are you whining about?”

“Nothing! But there are easier ways of swapping saliva, you know.”

I fight the urge to kick Frank under the table.

 

The rest of the afternoon contains going to various record stores and comic book stores. I find a few cd’s I’ve been looking for and Gerard gets some comic books. I won’t pretend I don’t memorize their names - right now it feels as if everything he does or says makes a permanent imprint on my mind.

All too soon, it’s seven thirty and we’re outside The Grudge again. This time we’re not a rookie band but supporting act for an unknown-but-still-a-lot-more-famous-than-we-are band from Boston, called Cyclol Accidents.

When we arrive, Karl and Noel are unloading the stuff from the van. I can see Karl carrying my guitar case.

“Hey guys, what’s happening?”

They look up from their unloading and carrying. Red isn’t in sight, but I’m sure he can’t be too far away – I try not to think about how he will react.

“Soundcheck in fifteen minutes,” Karl says, and gives Frank and Gerard an acknowledging nod. Noel smiles and does the same. “Your make-up is in the back, I got you the red one too ‘cause I… well, I thought it would look good, or something.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“’Or something’?”

“Yeah, whatever, it was a cool color.”

I’m actually impressed. I’ve been silently hoping for months that the guys will let me put makeup on them for our performances.

Greg is there, but seeing as he’s the owner of the club that is kind of obvious.

“What, no mascot today?” he says when he sees me. I smile, but it doesn’t feel that good to be reminded of the fact that the last time I was here, it led to me not being allowed to babysit Jamie.

Red doesn’t look at me directly as we get our stuff on stage, but I can almost feel the tension when he realizes Gerard and Frank are there.

While we do our soundcheck, Gerard and Frank sit in the back listening. When we’re done, we join them to listen to Cyclol Accidents – they’re quite good, not really my kind of music but good nonetheless. The singer is the kind of good-looking guy who probably will have a heap of fanfiction devoted to him if his band ever gets that famous.

Gerard is sitting next to me, keeping his gaze fixed on the people on stage. 

I’m not. I’m watching Gerard, admiring how the light reflects in his kind of messy, black hair (I liked it blonde too but black seems to be more him) and in his eyes.

Suddenly, he’s looking at me – Cyclol Accidents have gone silent – and he smiles when he sees me watching him. I smile back, and somehow I can’t move my eyes from his face.

It probably lasts only for a few seconds, but those seconds seem like minutes – I think the color of his eyes is called hazel, but it doesn’t really matter what color they are because either way they are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

I think he is about to say something, but just then, Frank (who’s sitting on Gerard’s left side) says something about the band, making Gerard turn away.

 

-

 

There are people wearing home-made Infinity t-shirts.

I see them as I go on stage, five people in the first row in white t-shirts with our band name written in bold black letters on the front. And when I start singing, they sing along.

They’re not the only ones – people without white t-shirts sing along too. At first, I’m so shocked that I actually miss the beginning of Detention’s chorus. The rest of the band is on it, though – just a couple of bars and I’m back on track.

After half an hour, we’re exhausted, sweaty and extremely happy. Even Red smiles, and that doesn’t happen very often nowadays.

The lights go down and we walk off stage, but the crowd is still shouting.

“So that’s where all those demos went,” Karl says.

“Yeah, despite the crappy sound,” I reply, looking over my shoulder to the stage. “Man, they really want us to go back on.”

Greg, who’s standing backstage, gives us a thoughtful look.

“Do it,” he says. “Cyclol can wait.”

The crowd that meets Cyclol Accidents aren’t half as wild as our was.

The five shirt-wearers, three clearly teenage girls and two guys (they must’ve had false ID's to get in here), are gathered at the backstage door when we exit.

“Nice t-shirts, guys!” I say as they approach us, and they all smile nervously as the rest of Infinity file up next to me.

“Thanks,” one of the girls, a short one with green streaks in her black hair, calls over the noise that is Cyclol Accidents. “We just wanted to say that we think you’re awesome.”

“Yeah,” another girl, with short, bright red hair says. “The demo’s great, we saw you in Newark a month ago, it rocked.”

“I’m Lizzie and this is Amy and Norah, and Danny and Eric,” the short girl continues, pointing at her friends as she says their names. Karl smiles and introduces himself and the rest of us, although I suspect they already know who we are since I’ve just introduced us on stage. There’s no way I’ll remember their names, but they’re nice and for some reason they think we’re awesome.

I try to listen to the half-screaming conversation, but my eyes start to wander towards the back of the club. I’m torn between talking to our ‘fans’ (I’ve never considered myself as a person who could have fans, so it’s kind of an unreal feeling to have people you don’t know saying that you’re awesome) and looking for… people.

I don’t have to decide, though – suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“You’ve got fans, huh?” Gerard says, close to my ear – probably so he won’t have to yell, but it still sends shivers up my spine.

“By the looks of it, yeah,” I say, turning to face him for a split second ( _don’t look him in the eye_ ), before turning my head to see the rest of My Chemical Romance coming our way. A few people turn their heads but most of them are focusing on Cyclol Accidents instead of random famous musicians who happen to walk by.

Frank is carrying his bag and Mikey is carrying Gerard’s, but the latter drops the bag at his brother’s feet when he reaches us.

“But Mikes, I thought you were gonna do my laundry,” Gerard says in a whiny voice. Mikey just rolls his eyes, and then looks at me, smiling.

“You guys were awesome,” he says, nodding to emphasize his words. “I really liked your demo.”

“I told you they were amazing on stage,” Gerard says, grinning and putting his arm around my shoulders again. To his (and my own) surprise, I sneak my arm around his waist.

He doesn’t pull away or look at me strangely, he just pulls me closer to his body. 

Our fans have realized who I’m talking to, and the girls – Lizzie, Amy and Norah – suddenly gather around me and My Chem. I think Gerard will let go of me when there are so many people around, but he doesn’t and it makes me feel almost elevated.

“C-c-can I have your autographs?” the girl I guess must be Norah says, while the others look at the band in awe.

The rest of my band and the two other fans, the guys, join us just as Mikey says:

“Sure!”

He reaches for the Sharpie that Norah is holding out, and then signs her forearm. The procedure repeats a number of times, since there is one marker, three girls and five band members. Gerard manages to sign three arms without taking his left arm from my shoulders.

“Uh, are you two…?” Lizzie asks when she turns to me, probably thinking it’s safer to talk to me as I’m apparently a bit more on her level.

“Are we what?” I ask, not looking at her as I scribble something I hope is my signature on the small space on her forearm that isn’t covered in MCR autographs. I know what she’s asking, I’m just not entirely ready to answer.

“Together?” she finishes.

“Um…”

“No…?” Gerard says, sounding as hesitating as I feel.

“No,” I finish. Lizzie doesn’t look entirely convinced, and gives me a look that says “yeah right” before handing the marker to Amy.

Well, that was a smooth conversation.

Cyclol Accidents’ set is over and the DJ has started to play other songs, and since we’re blocking the backstage door with our group of fourteen, we move away to a more secluded area of the club were the music is not so loud. It’s still loud enough to make us have to raise our voices – for complete silence we probably would have to go outside. 

After receiving a kiss on the cheek from the singer as a form of bribe, Frank agrees to take Gerard's bag too.

"But it's not because of him kissing me!" he says when the rest of My Chem start mocking him for it. "I just knew he has other things on his hands right now."

I try to look at anything but Gerard, but it doesn't go that well. His arm is still around my shoulders and mine is still around his waist, and the rest of My Chem and Infinity keep giving each other meaningful looks. Thanks for being obvious, guys.

All except Red, who has disappeared. I noticed his menacing stares a few minutes ago when he saw the whole of My Chemical Romance coming our way, and now he’s gone. Along with that girl Amy.

The weird thing is that it doesn’t feel the least bit strange. Red has been my friend since kindergarten and we’ve always been close, but these past few weeks he’s been like a stranger to us.

Gerard glances at me.

“You do that a lot.” Man, what is it with him and whispering into my ear?

“What?”

“Disappear.”

“Oh.”

“Are you all right?” he says, pulling me a bit closer.

“Yeah, well, it’s just… Red, he’s been a bit weird.”

Gerard nods.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Karl told me,” he tells me when I give him a surprised look. “Red doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

I look down, a bit embarrassed.

“Uh, well… it’s more about the fact that you’re in My Chemical Romance that bothers him, I think.”

“So that’s why he can keep a civilized conversation with Frank but not with me?”

I look up at him. I haven’t thought about it that way – I have a vague memory of Red talking to Frank, but I’m not sure…

“Oh, you probably don’t remember that, it was during Cyclol Accidents’ soundcheck…”

I blush and he smirks, and to my surprise he puts his lips to my forehead for a split second. Then, while I’m busy recovering from the shock, he turns his head and says:

“Oh, Pete Wentz is here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH FLUFF. (With a side of disapproving mother.) To Aubrey's surprise, a lot of things are going the right way. 
> 
> This, as well as all the other chapters, were originally divided into shorter ones. I've tried to mash them together, but there may still be a few illogical breaks.

“So I’ll give you a call in a couple of weeks then.”

It’s Pete Wentz.

“Thank you so much!” Karl says, since both Noel and I are dumbstruck.

“From what I’ve heard, I should be grateful one,” Pete smiles, and looks at Gerard, who has been by my side the whole time (although not with his arm around me). “Nice to see you, Gee.”

“Yeah, you too. Tell the guys I said hi.”

Pete grins.

“Will do,” he says, before turning to the rest of us (the Infinity fans stay in the background and I don’t blame them, this may have been one too many great musicians to handle in one night), waving and walking away.

“Oh my God,” I say, letting out the breath I’ve been holding for a while. Pete Wentz said he liked our demo – he had gotten it from a friend of a friend who had been to one of our gigs. I don’t want to ask if Gerard has had any part in it, but I strongly suspect that he does.

Pete Wentz said he wanted to sign us to Decaydance.

“Don’t faint,” Gerard says, and laughs when I slap his shoulder.

“It’s Pete Wentz, did you expect me to keep calm?”

“Are you saying you can keep calm around me but not around Pete?” Gerard says, raising his eyebrows and causing me to laugh while desperately fighting another blush rising to my cheeks.

The club is still pretty crowded, but not as much as before. We decide it’s a good idea to get our things and start to think about getting home, since it’s a school day tomorrow. The problem is that Red is nowhere to be seen – again.

“Ten bucks says he’s in a bathroom stall with that Amy girl,” Karl mutters. Amy’s friends don’t hear what he says, fortunately, and I throw him a glare.

We try calling Red on his cell but there is no answer. After loading all our stuff, including Red’s, into the van and looking through the bathrooms and most of the club without any sign of neither Red nor Amy, we hang around for fifteen more minutes before the members of My Chemical Romance decide it’s time to go home.

While the rest of the band get into the car that apparently is Ray’s, Gerard and I stand a few feet apart with an awkward silence in between.

“So, I guess… this is kind of goodbye for a while."

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I don’t think any silence has ever been any more awkward, and I’ve had my share of awkward silences.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just kiss her!”

Gerard turns around to give Frank a lethal glare, which Frank pretends to dodge. But Gerard looks at me again, and then takes a step forward and kind of leans in, his face close to mine.

And I forget how to breathe, how to think - I forget who I am, where I am and who the people around us are. All I’m aware of is soft lips against mine for a few seconds; and then a desperate feeling of longing for more.

I can hear wolf-whistles and approving shouts from our audience, and as we pull away, Gerard smiles shyly.

I realize I’m smiling too.

As I watch the car disappear out of sight, I hear Karl yelling “Red! Where the hell have you been?” behind me. I turn around and there is Red, looking a bit flustered in rumpled clothes and hair sticking out in weird directions. Amy is there too, looking even more out of place.

“Away,” Red says, shrugging. Amy is smiling and tries to take his hand, but he doesn’t even look at her and pulls it away.

The poor girl looks utterly destroyed. Before getting into the van, Red gives me a look I can’t really read. But there’s something about it that makes the feeling that is still filling my body from Gerard’s kiss fade a bit.

What is happening to us?

The ride home is anything but pleasant. Red is sulking in his seat, Karl and Noel try to keep a meaningful conversation in the front but it doesn’t go that well, and I’m thinking about Red, Gerard, Gerard’s kiss, Red’s behavior and the reasons behind both of them.

The fact is that I don’t know Gerard at all, and I’m realizing it now. Not in person, anyway – I’ve watched interviews and seen him on stage but you don’t know a person before you’ve even spoken to them, do you? All I know is that he is a nice guy who, for some unfathomable reason, probably likes me in the same way that I like him. Or at least he likes me a little bit in the way that I like him.

There’s one part of my mind that is telling me to just keep going and see where it all leads, but another part is asking how on earth he can like me. _Me._ I’m not amazingly pretty or nice or outgoing, not like the girls he probably meets everyday and who would do anything to be in my position.

Gerard Way just kissed me, but I’m as confused as ever – there has to be something seriously wrong with me.

And then there’s Red.

Just a few weeks ago, everything was as it always had been and Red was being… Red. A little strange from time to time and with a weird sense of humor. Something happened the minute I introduced him to Gerard.

It suddenly clicks, and I’m about to fall off my seat.

It’s all about Gerard.

It’s not because he’s in My Chemical Romance or because Red thinks he’s a sellout – I should have known Red not to say anything like that, even if he can be a bit serious about music. The Red I know would never say things like that. He’s deeper than that.

Most of all, I should have seen this. The looks. The hatred towards a guy who seems to like me.

I could be wrong, I know, but the feeling in my gut tells me I’m not.

My train of thoughts is interrupted when Red himself speaks.

“Guys, I’m leaving.”

 

“Maybe we should have been a bit more sad about it.”

It’s Karl who speaks. We are sitting in Noel’s living room, since the Baker’s basement is out of bounds nowadays. The guys are drinking beer and I’m sipping a Vanilla Coke (call me crazy but it’s the best Coke ever). Noel’s parents aren’t home, obviously, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they were if we hadn’t been drinking – they have always been supportive of the band. I wish I had parents like that.

”Yeah, well, it was his decision,” Noel says.

“Mm, but we should have told him about Pete,” I say, and at the same time trying to telepathically make Gerard text me.

It has been two weeks since he kissed me, and two weeks since Red left the band. It has also been two weeks since we met Pete Wentz, so we are very very anxious every minute of the day, jumping at high noises such as the phone ringing. Personally I don’t expect him to forget about us, but the guys seem to think he will.

“How many times have we talked about this?” Karl says, putting down his empty beer can on the coffee table. “Fuck Red. Even being ‘in love’ shouldn’t make you behave like that. There’ something seriously wrong with that guy."

Noel and I look at each other, neither of us knowing what to say. Karl is partly right – Red is an immature jerk who should have told me what he was feeling instead of sulking – but I, at least, feel like I’ve betrayed Red in some way.

But you can’t help if you don’t like someone back, can you?

“So how are we going to find a new drummer?” I ask, probably for the fourth time this week. This time, Noel clears his throat.

“Um… I’ve actually asked a guy I know, he said he was up for it.”

Karl and I look at him, stunned. Noel is not exactly known for his enterprising qualities.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, no reason,” Karl says.

“Right. So his name is Hunter. He’s in my Science class.”

“Wait, Hunter Cole?” I ask. “I know that guy, he played drums in the Christmas show last year, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Well he’s good, and he’s a nice guy,” I say to Karl, who seems a bit lost. He scratches his left ear and says:

“When do we get to meet this Hunter guy, then?” 

 

Hunter Cole has a blonde mohawk and a pierced lip. My relationship with him goes as far as he kept my hair out of the way when I emptied my stomach contents into a bush at one of Karl’s parties, but I’ve never really spoken to him when I’m sober. He shows up at Noel’s doorstep about the same time that Gerard sends me a picture of the view from the tour bus, with the message “miss u lots” beneath it. This is the reason Hunter is greeted with a huge smile and an energetic wave from me.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just a bit hyper right now,” Noel says, and I throw my empty Vanilla Coke can on him, which he dodges. “Shall we go into the garage?” he continues in a faux British accent, causing me and Karl to laugh and Hunter to smile, not really knowing how to react.

“Noel, you suck at faking accents", I say.

We have set up all our equipment in Noel’s garage, since his parents don’t use it – they are pretty bohemian and always go by bus instead of driving, hence the lack of vehicles in the Murray’s garage. 

Karl’s old drum kit is set up in the corner, and as soon as Hunter is behind it and we’re half-way into Placebo’s Every You Every Me, it feels like Red never existed. 

At least not as a drummer in this band.

 

Pete Wentz calls us two days later, and there’s not much to say about it other than that we are set up for a meeting with Fueled By Ramen-people as well as Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump a few days later. In New York, fortunately – I don’t know how we would have gotten to Florida without our parents having a fit. Well, my mom has fits about everything I do, so going to Florida only would have been one more reason for her to push me away. 

We hardly speak to each other anymore – she always leaves for work before I wake up, and has gone to bed almost every night when I come home. I haven’t seen Jamie and Elliott in ages but it’s better not to think about it, since I can’t do much about it anyway. I keep telling myself that I’m leaving soon anyway, and then maybe everything will work itself out. Maybe I can prove to my mom that I’m mature enough to have a life of my own.

On a rainy morning at the end of April, Karl, Noel, Hunter and myself get into our faithful companion The Van, and head towards Manhattan. We have no idea what to expect, least of all Hunter who has been practicing almost non stop for the past week, and spending time with us to get to know us. He’s a really nice guy and a great drummer, but then again, Red was also a nice guy and a great drummer before he started behaving like a jerk.

We are quiet as we ride the elevator up to the eight floor of the building where the meeting is supposed to take place. I’m not claustrophobic, but the four walls sure seem to be closing in on me right now.

 

“We’re going on a tour! Can you fucking believe that, we’re touring!”

Noel is dancing around on the pavement exactly three hours later. Pete and Patrick have joined us for a coffee, and we are currently on our way to Starbucks. Karl, Hunter and I are just as amazed as Noel, but at least we’re not dancing.

“Yes, Noel, we can believe it even if it’s unbelievable,” I say, hearing Pete laughing next to me. “I’m not sure you should have coffee when you’re like this.”

Noel suddenly stops his dancing, and gives me a wide-eyed stare before throwing his arms around my neck.

“Noooo! Don’t take the coffee away from me!”

“Is he always like this?” Patrick, who is walking next to Karl, says. Karl laughs.

“No, he’s just in shock. But you don’t want to be around us when both he and Aubrey are hyper, it’s almost too much to handle.”

Just as we have gotten our coffee and is sitting down at the pretty crowded coffee house, my cell phone’s buzzing tells me I have a new message. It’s another picture from Gerard – as we text each other at least twice a day, it’s not really a surprise, but I still get that jumpy feeling in the pit of my stomach when the screen reads “1 new message from Gerard”. 

Karl, Noel and Hunter (who has gotten used to me frequently checking my phone) look at each other without saying anything when I flip the phone open, and Patrick, who is sitting next to me, apparently catches a glimpse of who the message is from.

“Aw, boyfriend?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee and then frowning from the heat.

“I… don’t know,” I say, a bit absent-minded and also a bit hesitant – you can’t call Gerard my boyfriend, but he certainly is something. The pic he sent is probably Bob trying to get away from the camera, but all I can see is a piece of blonde hair and a blurry hand. _things to do while on tour – try to get a decent pic of bob. no luck so far._

“You guys text each other non stop. And you kissed." When I open my mouth to speak, he says: "I was there, so you can’t deny it."

The two members of Fall Out Boy at our table make a simultaneous “aww”, and Pete says:

“So who’s the lucky guy? Someone we know?”

"Yeah, actually, it’s Gerard."

Pete nearly spits out his coffee and Patrick looks confused.

“Wait, that Gerard? As in Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance?” 

“Well… yeah,” I say, feeling incredibly awkward. “But I… uh… I don’t know what to make of it, really.”

Pete smiles.

“Gerard’s a great guy,” he says, patting my shoulder. “It’ll work out.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling just a little embarrassed about the fact that Pete Wentz just gave me love advise.

“But how did you two meet, anyway?”

After a small monologue from my part about Jamie getting lost and meeting Gerard again at Starbucks, Patrick lets our a low whistle.

“Wow,” he says. “I don’t know about you guys, but doesn’t this seem like fate or something?”

“Or coincidence,” Pete says.

“Fate!”

“Coincidence. A very happy coincidence.”

"As I said, fate."

“Guys!” I say, waving my arm between them to get them to drop it. 

“Yes, Aubrey?” Patrick says, smirking at Pete in an ‘I won’-manner.

“So what about Warped, then?" Karl says, obviously trying to change the subject.

“Well, you’re on it for two weeks and only perform on one of the smallest side stages, but it’s a great start, really,” Pete says, and empties his coffee cup in one gulp.

“Yeah, Warped was a great experience for us,” Patrick fills in. “You get to meet a great deal of people, gain new fans… As they said upstairs – “ we discussed this on the meeting earlier “- it’s quite unusual for an unexperienced band to get on the Warped Tour without having a record out yet, but if things go smoothly, yours will probably be out in just a few months since you’ve got so much good material.”

“Yeah, we’ve got Aubrey to thank for that,” Karl says, smiling. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say, smiling back. And I suddenly feel like I’m going to cry, or at least hug them all across the table – do I really deserve to be a part of a group of people who are so talented and lovable?

When we part, Karl, Noel, Hunter and I to go home and Pete and Patrick going somewhere else (obviously), I get hugs and ‘good luck’s. And it feels like I’m floating on air the whole ride home.

I don’t know how long this will last – bands come and go all the time and there are no guarantees we’ll make it – but I’m sure going to enjoy it for as long as I can.

 

The day after our meeting with the record label, which is a Sunday, I’m woken up at nine a.m. by Jamie climbing into my bed.

“Aubreey, mommy says you’re gunna babysit us today!” she says, her hot toothpaste-smelling breath tickling my face. I open my eyes and squint at her.

“What?”

“Eww, morning breath!”

“Shut up, kiddo,” I laugh, pulling the covers over my head.

When we arrive downstairs a few minutes later (when I’ve finally localized my sweatpants), mom is putting on her ‘spring jacket’. As Jamie runs into the kitchen, mom turns to me.

“I really don’t want to do this, but Joan called and said she has the flu and Rebecca is working today,” she says. “I don’t want you going out of the house, you hear me?”

“Fine, whatever.”

“And don’t you talk to me like that!”

“Fine, we won’t go out!”

Seriously, what’s wrong with her? I’ve probably spent more time with her kids than she has herself.

“I’ll be back by five,” she says. “Make sure they eat a proper lunch, Elliott threw a breakfast tantrum and didn’t eat much.”

She takes one final look into the mirror in the hall, grabs her purse and walks out the door. I stand there for what seems like ages before I hear the car pull out the driveway.

If she expects us to stay inside for a whole day, she’s wrong.

“Guys, you wanna go to the mall?”

 

We get back home at about three in the afternoon, after lunch at Burger King and several hours at the mall. We’ve taken the bus, and Elliott is fast asleep in his stroller as we walk the short distance from the bus stop to our house.

Jamie is holding her plastic bag with the new The Used cd in a firm grip, and as soon as we get inside, she runs over to the cd player. With Bert McCracken singing in the background, I carry Elliott upstairs and put him down in his bed, where he stirs for a moment before falling into deep sleep again.

“Jamie, do you wanna watch a movie?” I say when I get downstairs, and my little sister nods vigorously before diving into our dvd stack.

She emerges a few minutes later with Edward Scissorhands and a big smile on her face. We cuddle up on the couch with popcorn and pillows and blankets.

Around the time Edward sticks his scissors into the waterbed, the doorbell rings. I leave Jamie on the couch to open the door, her eyes glued to the television screen although she has seen this movie countless times before.

And then I stand by the open door in silence for a good ten seconds, looking at Gerard in disbelief.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a step closer and puts his arms around me, I sneak my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, or at least as close to the neck I can get since he is a bit taller than I am. The feeling of his skin and the softness of his hoodie sticking up from under the denim jacket is, no doubt, the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.

“I’ve missed you,” I say, my voice muffled as I’m talking into his shoulder. He lets out a soft chuckle.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, and pulls away a little, his nose almost touching mine as he looks into my eyes. For a moment I’m certain he is about to kiss me, but then he pulls away completely, letting go of his grip around me. I realize the front door is still open, and close it with a soft thud.

Before I’ve had the chance to ask what brings him here, he says:

“Half of our crew plus Ray, Matt and Bob got salmonella.”

“Salmonella?”

He shrugs.

“Chicken, I think. We had to cancel a few shows. I thought I’d come visit you since we were in the area.”

“Just being on the east coast isn’t exactly being in the area,” I say, smiling. He looks a little embarrassed, and makes that scratching movement to his neck. I get a sudden urge to touch his face, but manage to repress it. “We were just watching Edward Scissorhands,” I continue. “And there’s a certain five-year-old who I think will be happy to see you.”

He smiles at the mention of Jamie, and after taking off his jacket he follows me into the living room. Jamie hasn’t heard a word of our conversation, since Edward is in a crucial part of his fictional journey. When we sit down on the couch (with Gerard’s thigh touching mine ever so slightly, causing my whole body to tense) she turns her head towards us, and her eyes widen at the sight of Gerard.

“Hi Jamie,” he says, giving her a small wave and a grin. She smiles back broadly.

“Hi Gerard,” she says, waving back before turning her attention towards the TV again.

I don’t really know what to say to Gerard. I mean, we kissed, but I’ve kissed guys before and it didn’t mean anything. And it’s so weird to see Gerard Way in our living room. He sits there like a schoolboy who has done something wrong, not seeming to know where to put his hands or his gaze or his feet.

Before I know what I’m doing, I have snuggled up against him, my head on his chest and the right side of my body pressed to his left, my legs bent and kept in place in front me with my arms. You can probably hear my heartbeats on the other side of the street. I feel Gerard’s body tense, but after a few awkward seconds, his arm is around my shoulders and his left hand is playing with my hair.

And I’m so afraid that I’m doing something wrong, that he’ll walk away any minute. Jamie gives us curious looks but doesn’t say anything.

The movie ends at a quarter to five. As I’ve completely forgotten what time mom was getting home, the sounds of someone opening the front door and taking of their coat and calling “Hello?” catches me off guard. I’m still sitting close to Gerard, and since I have no idea how my mom’s reaction to me having a guy over would be, I quickly stand up, leaving Gerard on the couch.

“Hi mom,” I call back, and hear her rummaging in the kitchen as Gerard stands up too. He gives my stressed behavior an amused smile, and whispers into my ear:

“You want me to hide in a closet or something?”

I have to stifle a giggle.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Aubrey, who’s jacket is that?… Oh, hello.”

Mom is suddenly standing in the doorway with a pack of spaghetti in her hand. She looks at Gerard from his messy hair to his worn-out sneakers and then her eyes land on me, giving me a questioning look.

“Mom, this is Gerard.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Walker.” He stands up and reaches out to shake her hand. Still looking very confused, she takes it and says:

“Are you and Aubrey… dating?”

Gerard looks very uncomfortable, even more than the fact that he’s meeting my mother for the first time made him look.

“Uh… yeah, you could say that.”

I try very, very hard not to look at Gerard.

Mom looks at Gerard thoroughly again, and I can anticipate her next move.

“You do know Aubrey’s only eighteen, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Mom does some kind of disapproving snort. I can feel the tension building in the room, and apparently so can Jamie, because suddenly she jumps up from the couch and sprints towards the kitchen.

“Well, as long as you’re happy.”

Mom herself is far from happy and she isn’t exactly hiding it. Right now I just want to hug her, though – this is the first time in ages she has done something that is not the complete opposite of what I want.

 

“So, we’re dating?”

We are outside, waiting for the cab Gerard called to pick us up.

“I guess we are.”

And with that, he laces his fingers with mine, making it seem he didn’t mean to but our hands merely collided by accident and would you look at that, our fingers are entwined.

“How did you know I was eighteen?” I ask, partly to have something to say. Gerard shrugs.

“I didn’t.”

“Does it bother you?”

There is a short silence, but long enough to make me incredibly nervous.

“No,” he says at last. “I’m game if you are." He smiles at me. "And I didn’t think you were eighteen when we met."

“How old did you think I was, then?”

He looks at me closely, and tilts his head to the side. “Twenty-five.”

“Hah! I do not look like twenty-five.”

“No, I'm kidding.” At this, I stick out my tongue, causing Gerard to smile. “And you’ve just reduced your age to fifteen. I was going to say twenty, but now I don’t know…”

“Oh, shut up.”

He smirks at me just as the cab pulls up in front of us. We get in, and almost instantly when Gerard has told the driver where we’re going (Newark), his arm is around me again, pulling me close to him.

“So, what are you planning?”

His fingers are caressing my earlobe so it’s kind of hard to form proper sentences, but I think I manage pretty well.

“Well since we’re dating, I thought I’d take you on a proper date,” he says.

I look up at him and smile and receive a smile in return, one that makes my heart flutter. Well, everything he does makes my heart flutter.

 

Gerard knows the city better than I do and leads the way to a less busy street, just a short distance from the mall where we first met.

We stop in front of a small restaurant, not very enticing at first glance. It looks kind of gloomy – not that I’d shy away from gloominess – but it’s apparently open since the signs are out.

A girl around my age greets us as we get inside, and I don’t think I’m imagining that she smiles more at Gerard than at me.

“Two? Follow me, please,” she says, and shows us to a table at the back of the restaurant. Here the gloominess has been replaced by a cozy air, lit up by candlelight and curtained windows. The girl leaves us with the menus and a promise to be right back with our drinks.

As our food arrives twenty minutes later, pasta for me and some kind of salad for Gerard, I realize I still haven’t told him we got signed. When I do, he nearly spits out his mineral water.

“You did?”

“Don’t be so surprised about it!”

“I’m not! It’s just… congratulations,” he finishes, smiling. “Pete and Patrick are great guys. Have you met Travis yet?”

“No, but I suppose we will now. Recording starts next week.”

“What are you gonna do about school?” Gerard asks, chewing salad at the same time. I shrug.

“Pete said they’d work something out. I mean, I don’t think mom will be happy about me not going to college, but graduating high school will at least keep her from breaking down completely. And we’ve only got little over a month left, it’s no big deal. Right now I feel like I just want to jump on this train before it has passed, you know?” I say. I’m a little defensive over the fact that technically, I’m not going to graduate high school. I know I should have a backup plan if the music doesn’t work out.

“Yeah, I get it."

It’s surprisingly easy to talk to Gerard. I thought this would be embarrassingly quiet because I’m not normally a very outspoken person (unless I’m on stage, where I don’t have to talk to people or look them in the eye). It’s not, though. Gerard and I talk like we’ve known each other for a lot more than the few weeks we’ve been texting each other – we even talk about politics. But mostly the conversation moves from music, shows we’ve seen (his experiences are a little more impressive than mine) and albums we love, to movies, comic books and to the future, our families. When our plates are empty (Gerard left the asparagus) we sit for almost two hours talking about nothing and everything.

“Do you think we should leave? The waitress looks kind of stressed out,” Gerard says at last, looking over my shoulder. Seeing as the restaurant has slowly started to fill with people and there are no empty tables left (it’s a pretty small place), I can understand her worry.

Gerard takes care of the check despite my (not so) persistent protests. Outside, it has started to rain heavily and since we don’t have an umbrella we get soaked from just crossing the street. Gerard looks a bit disappointed.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk, but this rain doesn’t seem to be subsiding, does it?”

“We can still go for a walk,” I say, smiling. “We’ll just get a little wet.”

Gerard laughs.

“We’re gonna get drenched! And get sick and then neither of us are going to be able to sing and Pete and Patrick are gonna kill me.”

I take Gerard’s hand.

Walking in the rain may not have been my brightest idea ever, but it is still kind of romantic – we talk about everything but the weather as the rain continues to pour down on us. My feet go numb from the cold, but I hardly notice.

Walking out on the bridge by the Riverfront stadium and stopping at the middle with the view over downtown Newark, we lean against the railing, still talking.

“So, pancakes or waffles?” I ask. Our hands are entwined, resting on the railing in front of us – the bridge is under construction, so above us there is a scaffold that keeps us and the railing dry.

“That’s such a lame question!” Gerard says, laughing. “Pancakes, I guess… Um, Batman or Spider-Man?“

“I used to have a crush on Spider-Man,” I say, and Gerard gives me a ‘what?!’-look. I nod: “Yeah, he’s my dream guy. You better get yourself a red and blue suit and start swinging nets, or you won’t last long in my company.”

Gerard studies me for a fraction of a second like he’s really believing what I’m saying, and then he laughs.

"You’re awesome, Aubrey, you know that, right?"

The rain is still pouring and the cars whooshing past behind us makes it kind of unromantic in a way, but it doesn’t matter. Gerard looks like he’s studying the Newark skyline, but then he looks at me again.

“Your eyeliner is smudged,” he says.

When did his face get this close?

He wipes the black smudge from my eye with his left thumb, and at the same time letting go of my hand.

Oh well, he’s touching my face now and that isn’t really a bad thing.

I’m pretty sure the eyeliner is gone by now, but his hand is still at my cheek and his breathing is on my face.

“You know I really like you, right? Like, really really like you,” he says, looking into my eyes.

“I really like you too, Gerard,” I manage to say. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

He does. His soft lips are on mine and I wrap my arms around his neck and I don’t really know how far we’re taking this, but then there’s his tongue and my tongue and Gerard’s hand on my hip, and when we part I’m smiling like crazy, but I can’t look at Gerard because I’m almost afraid of what’s there.

I’ve never felt this way before in my life.

And although it scares the shit out of me, I’m prepared to plunge right into it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of moms in this chapter, and Aubrey takes a hurried step towards adulthood and/or homelessness.

Two days later at five in the afternoon, I’ve finally plucked up the courage to talk to mom about school. We – meaning me, Noel, Hunter and our parents – are having a meeting with the principal tomorrow and having mom on my side is pretty crucial. I am eighteen but I’m still living in her house, and since I don’t have a job, my only options are to stay or move in with Karl. Something I’m not too keen on, since he shares a tiny apartment with a strange guy called Kevin.

I tell mom what my plan is – that I only have a couple of credits left, that I did okay on my SATs, that I can always finish later. People do that. It’s not the end of the world. But she doesn’t budge. After I’ve told her, she looks at me like I’m stupid.

“I’m not changing my mind, Aubrey. You’re going to finish school either way! I’ve had it with your constant disrespect for what I’ve given you." She is standing by the fridge, and she’s gripping the handle so hard I’m afraid it will break. "I don’t want you throwing it all away on this… this ridiculous idea! You’re never going to be famous, and it’s about time you got that into your head!"

I don’t even have energy to say anything. She continues her tirade standing by the foot of the stairs, even as I go up the stairs and into my room.

I don’t think mom fully realizes what is going on until I’m standing in by the front door with one large bag, a rucksack and my guitar case by my feet. Before then she has been by the foot of the staircase, telling me to get back downstairs so we can work things out.

_Work things out._ It’s ridiculous. She’s never going to let me skip the last month of school, and I was stupid to have thought so to begin with. And not going to college? I was lucky she didn’t have a heart attack when I told her that.

“You can’t honestly mean you’re moving out? Where do you think you’ll stay?” she asks, looking at the bags I’ve just put most of my belongings in. “You’ll come crawling back in less than a week, now stop this nonsense!”

I don’t look at her as I grab all my stuff and open the front door.

“Aubrey!”

I’m going to miss Jamie and Elliott. Maybe I can see them anyway, when all this has settled a bit.

“If you walk away now there’s no coming back!”

I start to walk towards the bus stop. It’s not a long walk, and mom catches up with me just as the bus pulls up. She grabs my arm.

“Let me go!”

And that’s when everything changes. She slaps me across the face with her well-manicured hand, leaving my head spinning.

“It’s that Gerard guy, isn’t it? He’s making you do this!” she screeches. Her nails are digging into my arm, hurting me, and the bus driver and all the people on the bus are watching us. I don’t even think mom notices.

“Is there a problem?” the bus driver asks, and during the split second when Mom’s attention is directed towards him, I wriggle myself out of her grip and get on the bus.

I don’t even know where I’m going. While I pay for my ticket and my mom is yelling at me on the pavement behind the closed bus doors, I think about my options. Karl isn’t home, I know that, he’s visiting his parents.

In reality, I could go to Noel’s house and withstand the embarrassment of asking if I could stay there for a while, until I’ve found something of my own. But I really have no wish to see any of the members of the band right now. I don’t want to see anyone.

Except one person.

 

It takes me about an hour to get from Madison to Belleville by bus, and in that time I manage to rethink my decision a dozen times.

He told me he still lived with his parents. I laughed and asked what thirty-year-old still lives with his parents – “one who spends 95% of his time on tour” was the reply, and I couldn’t really argue with that since I stilled lived at home as well. Thanks to our frequent texting and calling, I know that the salmonella hasn’t passed yet so Gerard should be home, but what if he isn’t? I can picture myself asking his mom if I can stay the night even though Gerard isn’t there, and it almost brings a smile to my face.

I realize that I should have called him earlier.

“Hi beautiful,” he says when he picks up.

“Gerard, I… I need your help.”

 

“The weird thing is that I wasn’t all that mad to begin with. It just started to pour out.”

I’m sitting cross-legged on Gerard’s bed with my head leaning against the wall behind me. On the floor above I can hear his mother walking around the kitchen making dinner. I haven’t met her yet since she was out shopping when I arrived, but Gerard has asked her to make dinner for me too since I’m staying the night.

Gerard is lying on the bed, making our legs create a comfortable mess as they’re on top of each other.

“She has never really understood me, I think. But I at least thought she cared,” I continue, and lie down beside him, his t-shirt clad shoulder pressed against my cheek since the bed is pretty small. “She’s my mom; it’s her job to care about me.”

Gerard puts his arm around me and pulls me closer to him, and I wriggle to make myself a bit more comfortable.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks.

“I’m going into the studio and we’re gonna make a record, and then I’m going on tour with my band.”

“I kinda figured that,” he chuckles, kissing the top of my head. “I meant about this mom situation.”

"I know."

What am I going to do? I can’t really stay with Gerard for that long – firstly, he’s going back on tour in like two days, and secondly, we’ve been in this relationship for less than a week.

“I guess I could move in with Noel or something,” I say weakly, wriggling again so my face is level to his.

“Do I detect a hint of unwillingness?” Gerard says, and I smile.

“Kinda,” I say. “Noel’s great and I love his parents, but… I mean, moving in with them is probably asking too much. And Karl’s living in this run-down apartment with some junkie.”

“We can be homeless together, then!”

“Yeah, well, you still have your parents,” I say, and we fall silent for a few seconds.

“You can live with me,” Gerard says at last, almost like a whisper. “I’m getting my own place soon anyway, probably this summer. We could try…”

I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. Unfortunately, I know what to say.

“We’ve been dating for like three days, Gerard. I think that’s a little too soon to move in together."

He laughs.

“Yeah, I know. Not that either of us are gonna be off the road that much, but anyway…”

“I’ll look into it,” I say, smiling.

Neither of us know if this is going to last for long, but it’s hard to be realistic when you’re lying close to each other in a small bed.

Locking his gaze with mine, our breathing becomes heavier and I can feel the grip Gerard has on my shoulders tighten. Then, almost a bit hesitant but at the same time very sure of what he’s doing, he kisses me. I slide my arms around his neck and suddenly he’s on top of me, a bit heavy but I wouldn’t want him to move away for the world.

How could something be this perfect? It feels like we were always meant to be this way, with his hands stroking my back and my hands tangled in his hair.

For the next five minutes, there is no thinking – just the sound of our occasional breathing and the bed quirking when our weights shift. 

Then, there’s a clearing of a throat from the doorway and a knock on the doorframe.

“Gerard, your Mom wanted me to tell you that dinner’s ready… Oh, hello!” Donald Way says, peering into the room and smiling knowingly at our flushed faces. At least we still have all our clothes on. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before!”

“Dad!”

“Don’t leave the door open if you don’t want to be disturbed, Gerard. Now, who is this young lady?”

He peers at me as I scramble from the bed along with Gerard, trying to get my appearance in order.

“This is Aubrey,” Gerard says in my place.

“And does Aubrey have a last name?”

“Walker,” I say, putting on a smile and trying to fix my hair at the same time. “Nice to meet you, Mr Way.”

He smiles at me and then says:

“Well, youngsters, don’t let the dinner run cold!”

He turns to walk up the stairs again. Gerard looks so apologetic I can’t help but laugh – this is the sort of thing that happens in movies.

“God, that was not how I pictured me meeting your Dad.”

After managing not to fall back onto the bed kissing, Gerard and I try to make ourselves presentable (my bra was mysteriously unclasped, to begin with) before making our way upstairs. The smell of food has spread through the house and I realize I’m very hungry. When we get to the kitchen, Gerard’s parents have already been seated.

“Mom, this is Aubrey.”

Donna Way sets down her glass of water and looks at me curiously. 

“Hello, Mrs Way,” I say, hoping my voice isn’t as high-pitched as it seems. Gerard gives my hand a light squeeze.

“Well hello, Aubrey, you can call me Donna.” She gets up to shake my hand, all the while keeping her gaze firm on my face. “Have a seat, you can take Mikey’s.”

Mikey’s seat is right next to Gerard’s. His parents keep asking me discreet questions about my family, how Gerard and I met (and I’m almost sure _gold digger_ crosses Mrs Way’s mind – I can see it on her face, the way her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she looks at me) and stuff like that. By the dessert (chocolate ice cream), Gerard is keeping the conversation alive with talk about the tour, while I sit in silence, trying to smile politely.

"I hear Alicia’s birthday party was a success", Mrs Way says suddenly. "Mikey told me all about it. And how old are you, Aubrey?"

Smooth. Of course she wants to know how old I am.

“I’m eighteen,” I say, and I’m glad Gerard’s fingers are laced with mine under the table.

“Oh,” Donna Way says, and looks at Gerard. She is about to say something more, but is interrupted by her husband.

“Well, this has been a wonderful meal as always, dear wife, but theevening news are calling.”

“Yes, and we have a… few things to sort out,” Gerard says, and I’m staring at the floor the whole while I’m standing next to Gerard, putting my plate in the dishwasher, and try my best to smile at his mother when I tell her that I enjoyed the meal. She smiles back but it’s a fake smile, and Gerard doesn’t need any help figuring out what’s bothering me when we get down to his room again.

“She hates me,” I whisper pathetically against his chest where he has placed me, stroking my hair. “She’s your mother and she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you, she’s… protective,” Gerard says, kissing the top of my head before continuing. “She’s happy for us. She’s just worried, she thinks I’ll get hurt.”

I still have my face buried in his shirt, but now I raise my chin to put it in the crook of his neck.

"Is she worried I’ll hurt you? She doesn’t even know me."

I bite my lip while waiting for his reaction. He sighs and pulls away a little.

“I’ve been through some tough shit, I’m sure you know that.” 

I nod. I have been a fan for some time, after all, although I’m not sure what I qualify as now. Fan with benefits?

“Well, Mom seems to think I’m some sort of fragile thing, like one little breakdown would hurl me back into drinking and using again. Which probably won’t happen. Mom’s just being mom, it’s her job to care about me.” We both smile at this.

"So I’ll just have to prove myself, then."

"Unfortunately, yes."

Gerard seems to be studying my face and then kisses my lips lightly, and I’m quick to respond – in a matter of seconds, I’m on my back with his hands disappearing under my shirt again.

 

I wake up when Gerard leaves the bed to go to the bathroom. The alarm clock tells me it’s eight thirty in the morning, and I vaguely recall him telling me he had an interview today.  As I lie there listening to the shower running and the faint sound of Gerard singing something, yesterday’s events seem almost unreal – twenty-four hours ago, I was still living with my mother. I wonder what Jamie will think, and if she and Elliott will miss me.

What if they don’t? I can’t help but think about what mom is saying about me now – how I’ve abandoned them, and how I’ve let her and Rick down.

I’m pulled out of my melancholy thoughts when Gerard exits the bathroom, dressed only in a white towel hanging low on his hips.  He catches me watching him and smirks.

“Stop drooling, it doesn’t suit you.” 

 

We leave the Ways’ house half an hour later and make our way to Manhattan in Gerard's car. MCR have to do an interview with some teen magazine, and I’m meeting up with the rest of my band. In the car, I call Noel to tell him what happened yesterday. He sounds concerned but when I tell him I’m with Gerard, he calms down a bit.

I’m not going to the meeting with the principal. Since I’m not going to live with mom anymore I don’t need her approval for dropping out of school. I probably didn't need her approval in the first place, but I guess that's what you get for trying to be honest.

It still feels a bit wrong, though – I've never thought of myself as a dropout.

 

Karl, Noel and Hunter are not the only ones waiting for me. Outside a small restaurant in the Village, I’m also met by Pete Wentz and a guy I don’t recognize.

“Aubrey, this is Derek Malloy. Derek, this is Aubrey, the singer.”

“And rhythm guitarist.”

“And rhythm guitarist,” Pete says, smiling.

Derek Malloy is a guy probably in his late twenties, looking like a rock star. His left ear is stretched, his lip is pierced, he’s wearing black jeans and a Led Zeppelin tee under his leather jacket. His dark brown, shaggy hair is probably styled with five different hair products to get that look. But he really looks like a nice guy.

His appearance doesn’t explain who he is, though.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, smiling and shaking my hand. I give Pete a confused look.  Pete realizes my question and says:

“Oh right, Derek’s your manager.”

Famous people have managers. Not famous people from Madison, New Jersey certainly don’t have managers.

Despite being homeless, this day hasn’t turned out half as bad as I thought it would.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey joins MCR in Europe, because reasons. She meets a lot of famous people and is generally loved by all. Bam, Missy, and Ben Kowalewicz are all in this chapter. (The fact that they were in Gothenburg at the same time has been thoroughly researched by me, since I went to that show on the pier. You COULD call this a self-insertion, but that would be a bit of a stretch.)
> 
> It's also not that likely that they'd go by tour bus through Europe, but let's just go with that for the sake of the story.

“So that’s it for now, guys. See you in three weeks!”

It’s our producer Jon who’s talking, and we exchange handshakes and hugs and Noel says:

“Yeah, and then we’re on tour!”

He’s practically bouncing all the way out to the street.

We’ve been in the studio almost non stop for the last month and even though we’ve had a great time, these last few days haven’t been very stimulating. The heat outside is oppressive, and even though air conditioning follows our every step it feels like we’re slowly suffocating. Hopefully, the end result isn’t going to be affected by the fact that we spent the last couple of days mostly drinking iced coffee and complaining about the heat.

We have three weeks off before we’re going on tour. Noel is spending it with a new “friend” who he refuses to tell us anything about, Karl is leaving for Boston and his parents, Hunter is going on vacation with his family to Florida, and I’m going to Norway. We’ve been staying at Karl’s friend’s apartment in Brooklyn this past month, and while it’s been a lot better than his old apartment in Madison, it’s not home. Norway is, believe it or not, the closest thing I’ve got to a home right now.  
We say our goodbyes on the pavement outside the studio before we go our separate ways. I love my bandmates, but I’ve clearly spent too much time with them lately – I’m almost relieved when my taxi pulls up.

An eight-hour flight plus an half-hour flight in a propeller plane later, I’m in Arendal. After getting my bag, I stand in the arrival hall looking around for someone familiar, when a pair of hands cover my eyes.

I turn around to face him and is met by a smile and a forehead against mine, our noses touching. And I can’t believe that it’s me feeling this way.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “I can’t even begin to describe how much I’ve missed you.”

"I’ve missed you too."

That’s when I hear a clearing of a throat from behind Gerard, and I look over his shoulder to discover Bob. He waves and smiles and says:

“Hi Aubrey.”

“Hi Bob,” I say, waving back with my free hand. Gerard turns around and keeps hold of my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.

“I guess we’ve gotta head back,” he says, and Bob offers to carry my bag before we make our way out of the airport.

In the car to the festival area, I lean my head against Gerard’s chest while he plays with my hair.

I remember when I was nine and asked my mom how you knew that you loved someone. Mom was in one of her good relationships at the time (not very good for me though, because this guy just cared about her) and she smiled and said that if you closed your eyes and imagined your life without that person, you would know.  
I close my eyes.

  
In Norway, it’s just past twelve A.M. In New York it’s just past six A.M. And since I didn’t sleep more than three hours on the plane, I’m dead tired. I usually get grumpy when I’m tired, but I’m with Gerard now, and there’s no way I can be mad at him even if I’m about to fall over in the parking lot backstage.

“Are you alright?” Gerard asks, looking at my pale face.

“I’m tired,” I whine, snuggling close to him. “And I want to take a shower. And I want to be with you.”

He puts his arms around me and I want to stay this way forever, I could fall asleep just standing here.

“There’s a shower backstage and you can sleep on our bus, but I don’t think I’ll be able to be with you that much right now, we’ve got sound checks and interviews and shit."

He sounds so apologetic that I have to interrupt.

“Hey, it’s not that I’ll be that much fun sleeping anyway.”

Gerard smirks.

"I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you."

I stick out my tongue at him, but I’m not going to argue with that.

  
I manage to take a shower, and then stumble to the bus where Gerard is waiting. He watches me as I get out of my dirty travel clothes (which I have been wearing for the last twenty-four hours) and into a pair of sweatpants and my oldest MCR t-shirt (with holes in various places). He looks kind of dazed as I climb in next to him in his bunk, my back to the wall, facing him. "You’re beautiful,” he says, putting his arm around me to pull me closer.

“Likewise,” I say, yawning.

I don’t know if he says anything more, but I think I remember him kissing my forehead as he leaves some time later. When I wake up, the bus is boiling hot and someone is opening the door. I open my eyes just in time to see Frank’s knees (attached to the rest of him, probably) walk into my field of vision. Frank’s head appears from above.

“Hey Aubrey, Billy Talent’s up in half an hour.”

Ten minutes later, I’ve pulled out a pair of leggings, a wrinkled Fall Out Boy t-shirt and some eyeliner from my bag. I’m still a bit dizzy from the jetlag as I make my way outside where Frank is smoking while waiting for me. It’s about five in the afternoon and there are people everywhere, roadies and musicians and random people that I have no idea who they are.

Gerard and Ray have just come back from an interview with some Norwegian magazine, and they meet us behind Billy Talent’s stage.

“They asked about you,” Gerard says after giving me a peck on the lips.

“They did?”

“Yeah, well they didn’t ask about you but they wondered if I was single. I told them I wasn’t.” He idly strokes my temple and tilts his head a bit. “I told them you’re in a band. I just thought you should know.”

I smile and kiss his cheek. “It’s okay, I suppose I just have to stay inside for a few years to avoid the revenge of the fangirls.”

He laughs at this. “Yeah, that might be necessary.”

Big Worm is suddenly there, handing me a backstage pass and telling me to keep it close, since "people would kill for one of those".

“Worm, does she look like she’s five years old?” Gerard says, and Big Worm shrugs.

“No, she doesn’t, but Frank loses his all the time so it doesn’t have anything to do with age.”

“It was stolen!” Frank exclaims, looking a bit offended.

“Three times?”

“It really was!"

Before Frank can go any further into defending himself, Ben Kowalewicz appears behind Gerard, placing his hands on both our shoulders.

“Gerard, my only love. I hear you have been deceiving me with another?” he says, and Gerard doesn’t even flinch as he turns around and says:

“Benjamin, you are my true love, but lately I’ve been finding myself emotionally attached to this girl. Can you ever forgive me?”

Ben lets go of our shoulders and seems to be in deep thought.

“I forgive you!” he then says. “But it comes at a cost – I cannot carry on without a kiss from my love.”

Behind me, Ray and Frank are doubled over with laughter at Ben and Gerard’s antics as well as my very confused expression. Ben is suddenly very close to Gerard’s face.

“But Benjamin, not now!” Gerard says, placing his hand on Ben’s shoulder theatrically. Ben looks utterly disappointed for a split second, before Gerard plants a kiss on his lips.

"Ben, this is Aubrey."

Ben’s face lights up and he shakes my hand.

“The last time I met Gerard he couldn’t stop talking about you,” he says, and I glance at Gerard who smiles at me, a little embarrassed. I don’t really know what to say to Ben after his dramatic entrance, but he seems like a nice guy. Ray and Frank have disappeared off to somewhere and Gerard and I stand there talking to Ben until the rest of Billy Talent arrive. The chants from the other side of the stage has become louder by the minute.

  
I went to my first MCR concert when I was sixteen, in Newark. I stood in the front row, getting crushed against the steel barrier. But it was worth it. I had been saving up to go to that show for months and since no one wanted to go with me, I went alone. I queued for sixteen hours and when the concert ended I was so tired I couldn’t stand, but I was the happiest girl in the world.

I’ve seen them twice after that, but that first show changed me so dramatically that I can hardly remember the others. It was my first MCR show that made me want to be in a band for real.

I tuck my backstage pass inside my shirt as I make my way into the crowd. What’s the point in being at a festival if you can’t see any of the bands? I’ve already missed The Killers, Damien Rice, and Bright Eyes so I thought a Norwegian MCR crowd might be a fun experience. I can’t understand a word they’re saying but they look kind of similar to the MCR crowd in the US, so I don’t feel too out of place. I manage to get a pretty good spot a bit to the right of the stage. MCR are coming on in thirty minutes, according to the schedule.

I sit down on the grass, trying to find something to occupy myself with until the show starts. Forty minutes later, when I’ve texted Gerard five times and scored higher than ever before on QuadraPop, people start to scream by the stage. I get up and brush the dirt off my knees.

This Is How I Disappear is their first song, and I feel like I’m sixteen again – God, that makes it sound like I’m eighty or something, remembering my youth. When they carry on with Give ‘Em Hell, Kid, I make my way into the semi-mosh pit that has started to form and suddenly I’m covered in sweat from Norwegian teenagers.  
This is like an emotional flashback.

This is the band that helped me through high school. These are the lyrics I listened to when I was depressed, or happy, or mad, or jealous.

This is the band that made me love music.

And Gerard, the man who’s running around up there talking about how you shouldn’t act out in violence, is the man that I’ve fallen in love with.

And I’m so incredibly scared, because how on earth can anyone ever love me back?

  
Sleeping in a moving vehicle is also a new experience, but I’m still dead tired from flying across the Atlantic so I don’t have any trouble sleeping. I don’t even wake up when the driver makes an unexpected turn which apparently throws Ray out of his bunk.

At seven A.M., I’m woken by the absence of Gerard next to me, and people talking. The bus has stopped and my sleepy mind tells me we’re probably in Sweden.  
I pull on my sweatpants and try to flatten my hair a bit before making my way to the living room area. The gathered are Matt, who’s leaning on the counter talking to Gerard who’s leaning on the other counter, Frank and Bob who are busy playing Guitar Hero in the living room area, and Ray, who gives me a “’morning, Aubrey” before returning to watching Bob kick Frank’s ass on the Playstation. Gerard hands me a cup of coffee and puts his arm around my waist as I lean against the counter next to him.

“Good morning,” he says smiling, kissing my cheek.

“Hey. What’s happening today?”

“Well, we’re in Gothenburg and we’re playing here tonight… Until then there’s a soundcheck at eleven and I think meeting some fans who won some contest. And whatever you wanna do.”

I take another shower and then make my way back to the bus to get ready. Today’s outfit consists of my beloved black skinny jeans, a Dawn of the Dead t-shirt and my chucks, as usual. The bus is empty but there is a backstage pass on the table with a post-it next to it. _Interviews and soundchecks… feel free to check out the area!! I’ll give you a call when we’re done, xoxo G_

With the backstage pass around my neck, I make my way outside. To my left is where I came from, where the showers and stuff are, and to my right is the rest of the parking lot, with lots of tour buses in it. I walk around the bus and see water. Apparently, we’re at the docks.

I decide to explore the area some more and start walking towards the stages, two pretty big ones that are set up right next to each other. The only people around are staff and people who probably are musicians, but I don’t recognize any of them. The barriers are being set up in front of the stages and I walk out between them, where a kind of road separates the stage areas from each other. On the left stage, The Sounds are doing their soundcheck, and I make a mental note to make sure to see their show later.

After being told off by a security guard for being “in the way”, I venture back to the bus where I find Gerard putting out his cigarette and calling me – he spins around, pretty surprised, as You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison goes off in my pocket behind him.

“Hello?” I say, picking up, and turn my back to him.

“Uh… Aub?”

“Uh, Gerard?”

“I’m right behind you.”

“I know.”

“You’re a very strange girl."

“I know. You’re a very strange guy.”

“I know.”

There is a slight pause, in which Gerard hangs up and puts his arms around my waist. He takes the phone from my hand and puts it back into my pocket, and turns me to face him. I grin and kiss him.

“You’re weird,” he says, and kisses me back. “But you know what, that’s just why I like you so much.”  
“The only reason you like me so much?”

“No, I like you because you’ve got red hair and a nice t-shirt,” he says, smiling, but his face suddenly grows serious. “I like you because you make me smile. I like you because of the way you look at the world, and because you’re so fucking beautiful it’s unfair.”

I’m not even sure I’m breathing anymore. He has told me I’m beautiful before, but there’s something in the way he says it this time that makes me believe him.  
The thing is that I’ve never really thought about it that way before. It was just something that had happened and somewhere in my mind, I couldn’t really believe that he was with me because of my looks or my personality. Somewhere, I thought it was because he felt kind of sorry for me. It sounds strange, but my mind doesn’t always cooperate.

“A, what’s wrong?” Gerard asks, concerned – apparently, I’ve spaced out. I look at him, into his gorgeous eyes that I never even dreamed of being able to look into like this, and put my hand to the side of his face. And then his breath is on my face and my lips are on his and God, this man is a good kisser – I practically lose sense of space and time until I’m pressed up against the side of the bus that is facing the water, his hands roaming my body and my hands tangled in his hair.  
His left hand suddenly disappears under my t-shirt, but that’s when someone dumps a bucket of ice cold water over him.

“What the…?!”

Behind us, Bam Margera is preparing his escape while Frank and Ray are standing to the side, laughing. I might have joined them if I wasn’t soaking wet and prepared to kill whoever interrupted us.

“You looked like you needed some cooling off!” Bam says to his defense, grinning. “You got a bit carried away, we’ve been standing here for ages trying to figure out how to make you detach from each other…”

Gerard sighs and looks at me, pleadingly.

“He’s insane,” he says, putting his forehead on my shoulder like he’s just lost all faith in humanity. I can’t help but smile and stroke his hair.

“It’s okay. This is kind of like our first date!"

Gerard's hair is plastered to his forehead. He kisses me once more before turning to face Bam.

“Any last words?” he says, and Bam cowers behind Frank but is immediately pushed to be in front of him instead.

“Fucking traitor, Frank,” he says, receiving a smirk from said guitarist. Bam looks at Gerard with an innocent face. “Well, Gee, you might wanna introduce me to your girlfriend before you kill me.”

“Well… Aubrey, this is Bam." (Like I didn’t already know.) "Bam, this is Aubrey Walker.”

Bam walks up to shake my hand, and just as we’ve exchanged pleasantries like “nice to meet you”, Bam’s wife appears from the direction of CKY’s bus. She gives mine and Gerard’s soaking appearances a knowing look before shaking my hand.

“I’m Missy,” she says. “Sorry about Bam.”

A few months ago I would have been absolutely starstruck at the sight of the Margera couple, but now I even manage to relax in their company.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, there was always going to be a lot of angst in this story. Here you go. These parts have been heavily edited, to give Aubrey some agency and to have Gerard be more of a believable jerk. (He's a lovable jerk in this story though, so don't worry – it won't last.)

On a regular and wonderful day on the bus, Ray is kicking Bob’s ass at Guitar Hero. Matt is sitting in the front, reading, and Frank is in the back calling his mother. 

Gerard is lying on his stomach, occupying a couch by himself, and when I see him after coming out from the kitchen area with my very own jar of B&J’s, I stop to watch him for a few seconds. He’s drawing something that’s hidden from where I stand, and despite the noise around him he’s completely focused on what he’s doing. 

I move a bit closer, trying not to disturb him and placing my ice cream on the counter.

He’s so beautiful and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve him. 

He’s drawing me. A too beautiful me, but it’s still me, the slightly upturned nose and the long bangs and the smile. I feel a lump starting to form in my throat and just then, Gerard notices my presence and turns his head. Covering the sketchbook with his arm and sitting up, he looks a bit embarrassed. 

“Gerard…” I say, sitting down next to him, and taking the pad from his grip, flipping it open again to the drawing. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I was gonna give it to you later,” he explains, sounding a bit hesitant. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna like it.”

“I like it,” I say, grinning, and even though he doesn’t outright say it, I know deep down that what we have is something a bit more than a crush and sneaking behind the tour bus to make out.

 

Berlin, 7th of July.

“Why does my ice cream always melt?”

Gerard is actually pouting, and I try not to laugh as the melted vanilla ice cream drips from his chin, making him look like a vegetarian vampire drinking milk. He desperately tries to save what’s left of his forgotten ice cream cone (I finished mine in a matter of minutes, realizing that it wouldn’t last in the heat) but only succeeds in making it drip even more. 

“Gee, give it up, that ice cream is long gone,” I say. “It’s time to move on.”

“Oh, okay,” he sighs, throwing the cone in the trash can next to the park bench were we’re sitting. “Great, now I’m all sticky.” He makes a move to wipe away the melted ice cream with a napkin, but I grin and lick it from his chin before he’s had the chance to. 

“Melted ice cream does seem to have some good qualities,” he says when I’m done, smiling and giving me a peck on the lips. “We should get some more and… do stuff… with it…?”

His suggestive tone and ridiculously wiggling eyebrows makes me laugh out loud.

“I am NOT licking any ice cream from anywhere than your chin, mister!”

He pouts again, and I find it adorable although a little weird. He looks like he’s suddenly reduced his age by twenty-five. He sighs as he realizes he’s not getting any of his ice cream dreams to come true.

“A guy has to have dreams, right? I had the feeling you were a champ at ice cream-licking.”

It’s not that I don’t want to lick ice cream off of every inch of his body. I’m just not that fond of vanilla. 

 

He tells me that he loves me before he reenters the stage for the encore in Italy. He’s ecstatic, almost vibrating with the energy from the show, and he kisses me and he smells like sweat and he says "hey, you know I love you, right?"

My heart is about to burst.

"I think it’s pretty obvious that I love you too."

Gerard looks like he wasn’t expecting me to say it back, and grabs a handful of my hair before he kisses me.

He goes back onstage. 

That night, he tells it to me again and again, like he’s trying to get used to saying it. It’s like he can’t really believe it either.

 

The first time it happens, it’s barely there. The others have gone out for pizza but we’re far to comfortable lying next to each other in Gerard’s bunk to move out of there. They promised to bring back some pizza for us. 

He’s playing with my hair, and the conversation we’ve just had has fizzled out. I can’t really remember what it was about. 

“Do you ever think of me as old?”

He’s stopped fiddling with the strands of my hair as he asks it, and I turn to face him. 

“No, why? Do you feel old?”

“Well… yeah. Sometimes.” He almost looks embarrassed. “It’s not because of you.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re not old. And even if you were, I’d still love you.”

He smiles, and drops the subject by saying:

“Yeah. I’d love you if you were old, too.”

“Pah.”

“You’d look great with grey hairs.”

“Likewise. Looks like you’ve got some…” I pretend to inspect the black hair above his left ear, “… right here.”

Seeing his panicky face before he’s realized I’m not being serious, makes me crack up and almost roll out of bed. He tries to look angry, but that makes me laugh even harder.

“I do not have grey hairs.”

“No, because you've dyed your hair.”

“You know I’ll have to tickle you now.”

“Bring it on, gramps."

I wish I’d never said that, as I spend the next ten minutes trying to escape from him before getting tickled mercilessly.

 

The second time, it’s just the look on his face when a fifteen-year-old fan asks him what it feels like to have such a young girlfriend. We’ve been approached by a flock of Polish fans on the busy Warsaw street, and I have a full view of his reaction to her words. 

He dodges the question, replying something vague like “it’s great, what’s your name again?” before signing her copy of The Black Parade. 

There is a part of me that knows something is wrong, but it’s buried in the back of my mind as he smiles at me in between signing and hugging.

 

The third time, it’s when the internet explodes as the fans start asking themselves whether our relationship is a good thing or a bad thing. We’re in Lisbon by then, and Gerard and I stay up until four in the morning just reading through the forums. Maybe we shouldn’t be, but after Brian told us that something was going on, we had to see it for ourselves.

There are fans saying that their parents won’t let them go to MCR shows because the singer is involved with "that kid". 

There are fans hating Gerard for being a creep.

"You know that’s not true", I tell him, but even then, I can see how affected he is by it. It’s so obvious that he smiles at me just to make me think he’s okay. "You don’t think they’re right, do you? You knew what this looked like when we started dating. It was always going to be a rough ride."

"Yeah, I know."

He kisses me, but it feels like it’s just to make me feel better.

When we go to bed, it's the first time he falls asleep without holding me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so from now on, this story gets pretty dark. I've been thinking about just taking out large parts of this, because it has to do with my own life in so many ways and the way I felt back in 2007. Aubrey struggles a lot with her feeling of self-worth, and her decisions are not always that healthy. But here you have it, although edited so that it hopefully at least makes some sense.
> 
> TW: mentions of self-harm.

“It’s not working, Aubrey.”

I’m on the Warped Tour, and our two-week stay has been extended into five. Derek pulled a few strings. Gerard is in London, I think, but I’ve had so much to do I haven’t been able to keep track of where they are at the moment. In fact, we haven’t talked properly for several days.

“What’s not working?”

“This. Us.”

Somewhere deep inside, something shatters and spreads like wildfire through my veins.

“It was never going to work, Aubrey. I love you, but… You know. I feel like a fucking perv sometimes, you’re eighteen years old and I’m…”

If he does love me, what the hell is he talking about?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Gerard sighs.

“I’m talking about an age difference of twelve years, A.”

"That doesn’t mean anything. You know it doesn’t."

We’ve talked about this. We’ve agreed that this wasn’t going to affect us. It wouldn’t matter to our relationship what the fans thought, and they aren’t even talking about us that much anymore – it was always going to blow over.

Gerard is silent for a few seconds.

"I don’t think you get it", he says at last, sounding pained. "I don’t think… Can you see yourself in ten years? Or in five? Because I can see myself. It’s like I have this… I can see myself starting a family. Do you get that?"

_Breathe. You can talk him through this._

_You want to give him all of that._

"I want that too. You know I do."

But it’s like he doesn’t believe me.

"Aubrey, you’re eighteen." I hate it when he says it like that – like I don’t have a clue about life. "I don’t want to be the reason you gave up living your life. I don’t want to be the one to take these years away from you, when you’re supposed to be a… God, you’re a _teenager_. When I was eighteen…"

There’s a tightness in my chest. Like the anger is working so hard to keep control of my tears that it’s stretched out over my entire body. I hate it that he can tell that I’m already crying when I say:

"So you’re mad at me for being eighteen? Well, I’m _sorry_."

"A…"

"Don’t you fucking dare. ’I’m game if you are'. That’s what you said. You know that, right? You were so sure about this. You said you were. You said you didn’t think it was weird."

He is silent for a moment, and I don’t try to fight the tears from running down my face anymore. I can hear from the way he draws for breath that he’s crying too, even through the static of the phone. He’s so far away.

"I’m sorry. I can’t do this."

The beep when he hangs up is worse than any of the things he’s said. And later, I won’t remember that my phone shatters as I hurl it against the wall, nor will I remember what Karl and Noel say to me when they find me curled up on the floor against the kitchen counter.

 _I love you._ I love you, I love you, I love you.

 

Frank comes to visit in late September, when I’ve been on sick leave for a week. Gerard broke up in late August and it took me three weeks to crack completely. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to shut it out. One day, I just couldn’t get on stage. The rest of our prolonged time on Warped was cancelled, and the guys didn’t say a word about it. Karl got me home to our new sublet flat in Brooklyn, and made sure I got three meals a day those first few weeks.

Frank casts one glance at my long-sleeved shirt and knows. Frank and I were always like that – too alike to hide anything from each other. We discovered that during those two weeks.

And I don’t want to see him.

“Leave, Frank. Please,” I say to him as he stands in the doorway, with new tattoos and longer hair.

“Too busy slitting your wrists?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Fuck you, Frank.”

The door slams in his face and I know that it shouldn’t be like this, we’re supposed to be friends.

And he might tell me something about Gerard. Anything about Gerard would light up my day, as well as shatter whatever self-control I’ve managed to scrape up. When I open the door, he’s still standing there, and he lets himself in.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: self-harm.
> 
> This is a hard chapter to publish, but maybe I'll have to accept that when I wrote it, this was what Aubrey did. It wouldn't feel right leaving it out. It's been edited, but not in a major way.

Frank is sitting on my couch, looking out of place. We haven’t had time to make the place comfortable, and there are cardboard boxes everywhere.

“He’s been miserable, you know,” Frank says at last, when I’ve anxiously been fidgeting with the hem of my shirt for a few minutes. He’s been watching me, I know, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Do you think I care?” I say, anger flaring while I try to sound unaffected. “He broke up with me, so what. I don’t care if he’s miserable. He has no reason to. He got rid of me, he should feel _elated."_

“You know you don’t mean that,” Frank says, trying to look me in the eye. “You love him, I know you do. Just seeing… this…” he makes a gesture towards my covered arms,”… why would you even do that if there’s nothing more to it than hate?”

I look at Frank for a moment, his worried expression and kind eyes. He shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve him being here. 

"Things like these happen. We fell apart."

"No, you didn’t." Frank’s exasperated face makes me wonder how he can be so sure. “You were happy, Aubrey! Gerard was happier than he had been in ages. He really did love you. He _does_ love you. I’ve known him for a long time, and he wouldn’t be able to hide that from me.” He sighs. “You have to sort it out, it can’t go on like this.”

“It only lasted for a few months, and that’s nothing compared to…”

“You know it wasn’t nothing", Frank says.

What can I do? It was all Gerard’s decision and apparently, he didn’t think I had a say in it. He’s not old – if anything, I’m the one being too young. 

Being eighteen is a perfectly good reason to get dumped. I can’t believe I ever thought it would work out.

And the few months we spent together weren't really that special, were they? I fell in love and now have to fall out of love, people do it all the time. Sometimes it just takes a while before you recover. Sometimes you obviously have to fall deep before being able to get back up. 

So I tell Frank to leave. And even though he protests and tells me that Gerard and I need to talk and I shouldn’t go around moping but try to do something about it, I don’t want to listen.

 

_He’s miserable, you know._

Sitting on the floor by one of the empty walls in my room, I close my eyes briefly. A sudden memory of black hair and that beautiful smile flashes before my eyes. It hurts. But it’s been ages since I could recall what his face looks like, so it also brings some sort of serenity.

There’s my mother’s face. The disapproving look.

She was right. After all this, she was right.

People do this all the time. Someone breaks up, and the one left behind cracks.

In the end, Gerard was what my whole existence was about. There was the band and I loved being in a band, doing what I love and meeting new people and evolving as a group as well as individuals – but at the end of the day, what I loved the most was to pick up the phone and call him. Just to hear his voice. To know that he missed me just as much as I missed him.

Just knowing for a second that somebody loved me just the way I am turned me into this mess.

I look at the scabs and cuts on my left arm. There were a few from before I met Gerard, from when I was sixteen and the world mostly seemed like a dark place. From that time when Red had found new friends for a few months in freshman year, and I was just the weird girl who followed him around. 

Experimental cuts, at first. I didn’t try again until this summer. It felt kind of metaphorical to destroy something, just like Gerard destroyed us. 

Just like I destroyed myself by loving him.

But it doesn’t feel like that now. 

I get up from my position on the floor, suddenly feeling my legs again after thirty minutes of numbness. Grimacing as the blood makes its way through my limbs, I make my way into the kitchen. The razor in my hand ends up in the trashcan.

Maybe for good. I don’t know yet.

 

Life goes on. It has to, I guess. I wake up every day with Karl giving me concerned looks at the breakfast table, and every day I find myself more annoyed with it. My arms are left with scars that slowly start to heal.

Our record is released in early November, and people actually seem to like it. We’re incredibly pleased with how it turned out, but I think all of us were half expecting the bubble to burst when people started to hear us for real.

The self-titled album mostly got praising reviews but some lukewarm (“Infinity need to grow up and find their own sound”), but there are none entirely flaming. A hundred people show up for our first meet-and-greet a couple of weeks after the release, and while it’s not the largest crowd ever, we’re totally blown away by the fact that people even showed up.

We’re featured in the November issue of Rock Sound, and we’ve supported Panic! at the Disco throughout October. Things are going great, and that’s something I’ve never really experienced before. To think that only a year ago, our headquarters was Red’s basement and our largest audience hadn’t exceeded two hundred people makes your head spin. It’s incredible.

We’re at Starbucks, celebrating a little before we have to go home and get ready for tonight. We’re playing in the Village and we have to be there by four thirty.

“I’ll never understand how you can get that stuff down your throat,” Hunter says disgustedly, indicating at my cup of chai latte and pulling a face.

“And I’ll never understand how you can drink coffee without milk or sugar,” I retort. “That’s just disgusting.”

How I ever could date Gerard and not drink black coffee, I’ll never know. That’s pretty much part of his persona.

“You’ll never get through life without learning to drink coffee properly, Aub,” Noel says from his side of the table. “I had to teach Jake, we wouldn’t have gotten to second base if he hadn’t started to drink coffee.”

"Too much information, Noel."

Noel finally told us about his boyfriend, who turned out to be the drummer in one of the bands we shared The Grudge with all these months ago. I took a while for me to find out, though.

“I was happy and you weren’t, so I thought it could wait,” he said when I asked why Hunter and Karl knew but I didn’t. “You didn’t need to know about happy couples.”

I still felt left out. I also felt a bit guilty for not noticing that there was something different – one of your best friends getting a boyfriend is something that you should notice, right? 

But all I cared about then was to make it out of bed in the mornings. It wasn’t until last week that I realized that I hadn’t thought of Gerard at all that day, and it almost felt like a betrayal. There was a time when I was so consumed by the breakup that I couldn’t think about anything else, and now it’s a memory. It still hurts, but it’s a memory.

 

The door to the wardrobe in the hallway of our flat holds a full-length mirror.  I'm standing in front of it wearing nothing but my underwear, without makeup and with my hair in a messy ponytail.

The scars haven’t faded yet. I doubt they ever will disappear completely, I have the kind of skin that heals quickly but leaves long-lasting scars. 

I know I’ll have to show them sooner or later, since I can’t really go around wearing long sleeves forever. After a while, being on stage in the spotlights becomes almost unbearable. And I only have myself to blame.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey tries to get back up, and she has some awesome friends to help her. Gerard doesn't really help at all.

There really is nothing better than the rush of going on stage. You never get used to it – and now, when a whole club has been filled with people just because we’re there, it feels kind of unreal. 

They know every word of Detention, they dance to In My Head and during Yesterday, I can see tears glistening in the dim light. Yesterday was one of the first songs we ever wrote, and it has always been the same – with just me, an acoustic guitar and Noel on bass. I can’t really embrace the fact that the people in the crowd actually look up to me, just as I used to look up to the people on stage. Like I used to look up at Gerard and think that I’d never get that far. 

But I’m here. We’re not as big as MCR, but we are allowed to make a living out of this and that’s enough for me. 

Pete and Joe are here tonight, somewhere, as they are in town and haven’t seen us perform in a while. They came in just as we were getting ready, and I got this strange feeling of déjà vu, seeing Pete and performing in NYC. It makes me think about Gerard, which gives me the state of mind I need to sing Yesterday, but it also makes me want to get off the stage and go back to the apartment, crawl up in my bed and sleep until the feeling disappears. 

Pete found out about the breakup about a week after that phone call, when he called “because he missed me” and wanted to know how we were doing on the Warped Tour. I wasn’t doing very good.

“A, listen to me", he’d said when I was done explaining. "You do not, under any circumstances, break up with the person you love by phone. It’s like the first rule there is."

He sounded really upset, and I was glad I had him. I still am. Pete is like an older brother, and the rest of Fall Out Boy are like my crazy cousins.

 

The crowd here is great, and being on stage makes me look forward even more to touring the US again. Warped was fantastic even if we had to cancel the last of our shows. 

As always it’s over too soon, but I’m also relieved since I’m sweating in my hoodie. We have a group hug backstage, drink some water, and do our usual post-show routines. Pete and Joe show up to make dinner plans before getting ready to leave.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Noel is looking over my shoulder while we’re stepping out on the street.

“Isn’t that who?” I ask, starting to turn my head but getting interrupted by Pete who suddenly takes an interest in taking hold of my hand and turning me in the other direction. 

“Aubrey, I needed to talk to you about the tour,” he says, but I can sense there’s something wrong. Taking my hand back, I turn my head just in time to see a blur of Gerard disappearing through the crowd. A quick glance in my direction, but he's too far away for me to see his facial expression. And then he's gone.

My blood freezes. At least it feels that way.

What the fuck is he doing here?

“What the fuck was he doing here?” Karl says. Everyone saw Gerard and are now looking at me, holding their breath.

What am I supposed to do? Break down crying? It’s worse than that. It’s grief, but not the kind that brings tears – it tears me up inside instead. I fake a smile, and I know that they see right through it but I really don’t care.

“I’m okay,” I say. “Really, I am,” I continue when I see the sympathy in their eyes. “There are worse things than catching a glimpse of your ex.”

My ex. I never thought of Gerard as my ex before, it would have felt like a diminishment of everything he has meant to me. He’s not just my ex, he’s… Gerard. 

And for me, right now there’s nothing worse than catching a glimpse of Gerard.

 

Who was I to believe that I was okay? 

I have no idea what he has been up to. He might be married for all I know, since the people around me avoid his name like the plague and will go to any measures to keep news about him out of my way. They think I don’t notice, but I do. It got kind of obvious when Noel insisted on scanning through an issue of Kerrang! before handing it to me. I was both touched and irritated.

I used to be able not to care, and for a while I managed to pretend that he didn’t even exist. There were always the small reminders, like the scars and the photo on the cover of some magazine, but I managed to block it out. 

Now I don’t want to. 

It takes me five minutes after I’ve gotten home to locate his latest achievements on the internet. Karl is in the shower which leaves me with at least twenty minutes of research.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. 

I don’t know why he went to see us tonight, or how he got backstage. I don’t know what he thought when he saw me but I desperately wanted it to be something along the lines of “oh, how I regret my decision to break up with that wonderful girl” and then I wanted him to run towards me and pick me up and twirl me around so we could have that happily ever after ending that we’re supposed to have. 

Thanks a lot, brain.

The first thing I look up is whether he’s single or not. He is. There were some rumors about some bass player, but they turned out to be nothing, and I find myself extremely relieved.

Should I be? 

I haven’t googled my name in a long time, but when I do it now and put it with Gerard’s name, I get a bunch of hits on our relationship, as well as our breakup. Some fans are relieved, some are sorry and some feel it’s unnecessary to talk about our personal life. I can’t find any interviews concerning me, only the one where Gerard briefly mentions that we broke up. I’m thankful that he always is the secretive person I know him to be, but now I just feel frustrated. Why can’t there be just a small hint that he misses me? Why does he seem not to care at all?

I stop at a picture of me and him, on one of the many fan forums. It’s from a sunny Barcelona, a few hours before their show and we’re walking along the busy street, him with a funny sun hat we found in a street booth. We’re holding hands and looking extremely happy, like any other happy couple.

I quickly shut the screen of my laptop when Karl emerges from the bathroom.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people are trying to make Aubrey feel better. It kind of works. 
> 
> Also, emails and iPods were all the rage in 2007.

To: Frank Iero

From: Aubrey Walker

Date: 2007-14-12

Subject: none

_Frank,_

_I know it’s been a while but I just wanted to see how you guys were doing. It got so messed up when Gerard and I broke up, and I feel pretty bad about just breaking contact with the rest of you._

_And I’m sorry about September. I know you were just trying to help._

_So how’ve you been? Any fans tried to maul you?_

_Tell the others I said hi. I really miss them._

_Love,_

_Aubrey_

 

To: Aubrey Walker

From: Frank Iero

Date: 2007-15-12

Subject: RE: none

_Hey!_

_It’s good to hear from you. We got pretty worried for a while there but Karl told me you were doing alright around November, so I figured you were better off without us. At least for a while :P_

_We’re doing great, actually. Getting mauled by fans kind of goes with the job, right? We’re home for Christmas right now, but the tour kicks off in South Korea in late January. We’re getting pretty tired of touring though, so we’re taking a break starting this summer I think._

_We all miss you! It was a shock to all of us when you guys broke up, and I hope you never felt that you were “just Gerard’s girlfriend” because you’re a friend of ours too and we’ve missed you. It was great having you around._

_I heard your band is doing good. I’m happy for you :) I always knew you were something special. I got your album a few weeks ago and I LOVE IT. <3_

_What are you doing for Christmas? It would be great to meet up before we're going on tour again._

_Xoxo_

_Frank_

 

-

 

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Mom always hated cooking the traditional Christmas dinner, so we usually ended up getting pizza and eating in front of the TV, which actually became kind of a tradition. I never knew my grandparents, but when mom was going out with a guy called Owen, we spent Christmas at his parents’ house. I never liked Owen that much, but his parents loved me since I was the closest they had to a grandchild. That Christmas was great. But I can’t really say any of my Christmases have been that bad, it was just that after mom met Rick, I tended to spendmy Christmases at Red’s house. It was just easier that way. 

Frank’s letter makes me realize that I really don’t have anyone to spend this Christmas with. I’ve thought about it before, but always thought that it would sort itself out. But my bandmates are all spending it with girlfriends and family, and while I’m probably welcome to join them, it’s tempting to just curl up on the couch with a movie and pizza. I don’t want to be the third, mopey wheel to their holiday celebration.

 

To: Frank Iero

From: Aubrey Walker

Date: 2007/16/12

Subject: RE:RE: none

_Yeah, it would be great to see you :) I’m spending Christmas at home actually, not sure what I’ll do yet though since it’s just me. Maybe I’ll watch Die Hard 2 and have a Christmas pizza, I’ve heard the pizza shop down the road makes the best :)_

_Hugs,_

_Aubrey_

 

I grimace as I press send. Didn’t that sound just a little bit desperate? I can manage spending Christmas by myself, I don’t have to go whining about it to Frank. Is it just me, or does the use of two smileys in one letter make it totally transparent that I’m actually not okay at all? 

I’m not okay, I promise.

I read his last letter again. _We all miss you._

I try not to think of Gerard as I put on my docs, preparing for a walk outside. It’s a beautiful winter’s day and I’ve spent too much time inside lately. 

When I think about it, my life has turned out like something from a dream. Two years ago I was certain my life would turn out to look something like my mother’s, but without giving birth at the age of sixteen. There was nothing special about me; I was just like every other emo girl in high school. And then I met Gerard.

Being with Gerard changed me. Without him, I never would have dared to believe that someone could like me the way I was. And without him, I wouldn’t be the self-conscious wreck I’ve been reduced to now.

The fans looking up to me? All they see is the façade. I'm a lousy role model.

A light snowfall covers the sidewalk as I walk towards Central Park, my iPod shutting out most of the noise from the busy city street. I deleted all my MCR songs from the device five months ago, but for once I feel like listening to some hopelessly reminding song. I need to cry and let the world crash down, even if it’s just for a few minutes before I have to get back to the living again. 

I probably look like I’ve been struck by lightning when a woman suddenly emerges from the bookstore on my right, saying my name. Something clicks when I see her, like she’s an old relative or someone else I should be able to remember the face of. I take out one of the earbuds from my ear as I stare at her while frantically trying to figure out who she is. 

“It is Aubrey, right?” she says, sounding uncertain as I haven’t said anything.

“Oh, that’s me, yeah,” I say, probably sounding pretty confused. It can’t really be a fan, she’s too old, but I know that face. She doesn’t smile at me, but she doesn’t look totally unfriendly either. 

“Do you remember me?” she says, and I think about lying for a second before my memory decides to cooperate. 

I would have preferred that it had stayed silent, since the person in front of me is Gerard’s mother. 

“I wasn’t sure if it really was you, have you changed your hair?” Donna asks, seemingly unaffected by the fact that I was once her son’s girlfriend.

“Er… I- I guess…” I stutter, trying to form a proper sentence. What on earth do I say to this woman? Her son wrecked my life and she wants to have small talk? 

“Look Aubrey, I know this is probably a bit strange for you but I’ve thought a lot about you. Are you free right now? Do you want to go for a cup of coffee or something?”

She’s talking fast, almost as if she is just as nervous as I am. 

“Uh… Yeah, sure,” I say.

What does she want? I can’t think of a single reason why Gerard’s mom would want to talk to me, but we sit down in a pretty much deserted coffee house a few blocks away and she looks at me almost as if she’s sorry.

“You don’t look like you did when you were with Gerard,” is the first thing she says that is anything but polite small talk. She has placed her shopping bags on the floor next to her chair, and I look at them rather thanat her face. “You’re almost a different girl.”

”Why do you say that?”

Donna smiles a little at me, and I feel like a five-year-old in the company of an adult. 

“You’re pale, you’re thin, you look like you’ve seen a ghost and like you haven’t slept for weeks. I get the feeling you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine,” I say quietly, sipping my coffee.

Donna looks at me for a few seconds. I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t even be here, and I wonder what makes her think she could add anything to my life. 

“Aubrey, I’m sorry for the way I treated you. It was childish, but Gerard’s my son and I… I just couldn’t understand why he chose to be with you. A teenager!” she exclaims. “I was so scared that he would get hurt again. And well, you were a fan, after all…”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I don’t know what to say. Donna is apparently feeling quite guilty, and I can’t really say “oh, it’s okay, I forgive you”. Perhaps I should. But for all I know she had something to do with Gerard breaking up with me, given how much see seemed to hate me the last time we met.

“I wasn’t surprised when you broke up,” Donna says, looking out the window.

No shit, I want to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt relieved, too. 

I guess she senses what I’m thinking, or maybe she sees it on my face, because she hurriedly continues:

“Oh, you know I didn’t really warm to you. I thought you were just another gold digger.” She sighs, looking down at her cup of coffee and for the first time, I see some kind of resemblance to Gerard and Mikey in her features. “But then Frank told me how you were doing… and that he had broken up… the way he had. I couldn’t believe he’d do that to you.”

To my surprise, I feel a lump starting to form in my throat. I try to keep my voice even when I say:

“Why did Frank tell you that?”

I can’t really picture Frank as someone who would talk behind Gerard’s back.

“Gerard was a mess when he came home, and he wouldn’t talk about it so I had to ask the band. Frank didn’t tell me much but he mentioned you weren’t doing very good either,” Donna says.

I look away. I guess it really wasn’t Frank’s place to tell Gerard’s mother, but can’t bring myself to be mad at him. 

“I wasn’t,” I say. “I was a mess. I’m still a mess.”

I don’t know what suddenly makes me trust her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at me, as if all this is her fault. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t told anyone about how horrible I’m really feeling and she has stepped into my life on a day I needed someone the most. Maybe it’s just because she’s my only solid link to Gerard. 

“I know, honey. I just wish there was something I could do.”

There is nothing she can do, but she abandons her plans for going shopping for Christmas presents and spends her afternoon with me. 

The snowing has stopped and Central Park looks like something from a movie, with the people playing in the snow and the children sledding with their parents. It’s beautiful, and the fact that Donna is walking next to me is making this situation seem even more unreal. 

“He went to one of our concerts a while ago,” I say. ”Gerard, I mean.”

His mother nods, and I wonder if any of the Christmas presents in her bags are meant for him.

"Well, I don’t think he was ever able to move on completely.”

I turn my head to look at her. Why is she lying? 

“Of course he’s moved on,” I say. “He broke up with me, it’s not like I hurt him.”

“What do you think he was doing there, then?” Donna asks.

“Oh, I don’t know. But it couldn’t have been to see me, that’s for sure,” I say. “I mean, it’s been five months. People move on, I should have moved on. I’m so _pathetic_.”

Donna stops, causing me to stop too and turn to look at her. She is looking at me sternly.

“Now you listen to me, Aubrey. You are far from pathetic. Being in love with someone who doesn’t love you is not the worst thing that has ever happened. And I understand that you’re depressed and that Gerard hurt you, but you’re doing yourself no good by blaming yourself.” Her voice and face softens a bit as she continues: “You know, some people take a while to heal.”

Oh, fuck. I’m going to cry. This blond woman who is so very much related to the only guy I ever loved is making me cry.

“But I don’t want to feel like this,” I say, the words coming out all choked since I’m fighting my tears. “It’s killing me. I don’t know what to do with this, it’s all so fucked up and I’m never gonna be alright, Mrs Way, I feel like it’s all my fault."

My words are slurred and fast and incoherent, but Donna Way just lets me cry. The Christmas shopping bags are on the ground, momentarily forgotten.

-

 

To: Aubrey Walker

From: Frank Iero

Date: 2007-18-12

Subject: RE:RE:RE: none

_There’s no way you’re spending Christmas on your own. I know you don’t want to see Gerard, but could you please please please please consider spending Christmas with us? We’re at the Ways this year._

_But I really think you guys need to see each other. You can’t go on like this forever. I know it’s probably gonna hurt like hell to try and be just friends, but no one says you even have to talk to each other - we could keep him locked in his room… ;)_

_Seriously, think about it. We’d love for you to come. I talked to Donna before I sent this and she’s in on it, too. I thought you said she didn’t like you?_

_LOVE + HUGS from Frank (and Mikey and Bob who wanted to know who I was writing to)_


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve in Belleville. Everything is very awkward at first.
> 
> I love the fact that you're bookmarking and leaving kudos. <3 It's so nice to know that someone cares about this fic.

“Frank's right. You should go.”

We’re at our place just hanging out, and Hunter and Noel are engrossed in a very explosive Xbox game. Karl and I are in the kitchen and I’ve just told him about Frank’s email. 

“I can’t go. Gerard will be there and it will be so awkward with everyone else’s family there."

“Well, you can not _not_ go. What would you do? Stay at home? And then we’ll find you lying on the couch like a nervous wreck after you've spent Christmas with all the what ifs. No way.”

Karl’s look is not pleading but demanding. And he’s absolutely right. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he says to my pained expression. “It’s not like they’re dangerous. And you have to talk to Gerard.”

“I’ll die,” I groan, putting a hand in front of my eyes, picturing all the horror I'll have to endure.

“No you won’t.”

“I’ll die and then I’ll become a zombie and then I’ll get shot in the head and die again.”

“Well, since you’ll be a zombie, technically you won't die again.”

“Shut up.”

 

I’m kind of in a daze when I get ready for Christmas Eve in Belleville. The last few days have also been a bit surreal, but now it’s extreme. I nearly poke my eye out with my eyeliner.

I haven’t cared this much about what to wear in ages. We’ve toured and done hundreds of shows, but somehow you always care more about your looks when you’re going to see the love of your life than when you’re going to perform in front of thousands of people. 

I check my appearance in the mirror before I leave, to make sure that nothing is out of place. My clothes are alright, I guess – a simple black dress with red buttons and a red cardigan, but I cringe when I see my face. It’s the same as usual, it’s just that I look scared shitless. I try to smile, but it just makes me look even more frightened. 

The black eyeliner and my straightened dark brown hair looks dull, but I guess this is what I normally look like. And no matter how I look, there’s no way Gerard still feels anything for me.

But can you blame me for trying?

 

I arrive at the Way house after an hour of thinking about what a bad decision this is. I have borrowed Karl’s car, a rusty old Honda, and the traffic hasn’t been as bad as I expected. It’s dark out and the Christmas decorations light up the street, and my breath creates white steam in the air as I step out of the car. I’ve parked it on the curb outside the house, along with all the other guests’ cars – there are quite a lot of them, and I wonder if only the band’s families are here or if there's even more people. With a lot of people present it's probably easier for me to stay away from Gerard.

Nervously running a hand over my hair, smoothening it, I step up to the front door and press the doorbell. The joyous sounds of laughter and some holiday song coming from inside aren’t helping my nerves at all – this is a Christmas party with people I used to belong to, but I probably don’t belong here anymore. 

It takes a while for someone to hear the doorbell ringing. I have to press it twice before the door opens, and then I’m standing face to face with Gerard. 

His face goes from smiling to shocked, and I realize at once that no one told him I was coming. 

“… Aubrey?”

All I can do is stand there in silence. There was no way I could have prepared myself for this, for the awful Christmas sweater he’s wearing and the glitter someone has put in his hair and the way his face contorts into something I can’t read.

“Aubrey!”

Donna smiles at me as she emerges from the kitchen to the left, and quickly throws a glance at her son before engulfing me in a hug. 

“Don’t look at her like she’s something the cat dragged in. I invited her,” she tells Gerard before offering to take my coat. “Go and get her something to drink.”

Gerard obliges without even a glance in my direction, and I wonder if coming here was such a good idea.  But these people are my friends, even if our friendship is the result of my failed relationship.

Gerard returns a moment later when Donna has told me that food will be served within thirty minutes and has disappeared into the kitchen again. I’m alone with Gerard in his parents’ hallway and try my hardest not to look at his face.

“Here you go,” he says, handing me a glass of something sparkling, presumably non-alcoholic. I’ve longed to hear his voice but now I can’t recognize it. 

“Gerard…"

“It’s good to see you, Aubrey,” Gerard interrupts, forcing a smile at me.

Everything I want to tell him gets stuck in my throat.

“Really?” I say, not being able to stop myself. Gerard’s face falls.

“Yeah,” he hesitantly says.

“It’s good to see you too, Gerard.”

What am I supposed to say? Ask him why he was at the show without attempting to speak to me? Pretend that I’m fine and that it doesn’t matter that he broke my heart?

I settle for the last one. At least I attempt to, but I have the feeling he sees right through me.

“So…”

“Um. Yeah.”

And with that he disappears into the living room to join the others, leaving me alone and with a sudden urge to throw my half full glass at the back of his disappearing head.

“Aubrey!”

I’ve probably been standing there for a few minutes trying to calm down, when Frank appears from the room Gerard just entered. He gives me a long hug and I try to convey some happy holiday spirit, but he sees right through it. Before he has any time to comment, Jamia appears behind him and he introduces us. 

“We’ll talk later, okay?” he hurriedly says as Jamia wants him to get back to the party. “Try to have some fun. Everyone’s here!”

Oh, good. That has to mean that I have absolutely no social life, since I don’t know anyone of the “everyone” in the house beside the band and Donna. Bob approaches me after a while, when I’ve been sitting in a corner sipping my drink for several minutes. Gerard is across the room, and I can see in his face even from a distance that the discussion he’s having with Mikey is forced, that his eyes constantly wander over to where I’m sitting. Maybe I should leave.

“Are you alright, A?” Bob says, and I shake my head as I try to smile at him, as if there is something funny about the situation.

“No, I’m fucking not. I don’t know why I even bothered showing up. He obviously isn’t interested in having any kind of contact with me.”

Bob grimaces and pulls out a chair to sit down next to me. 

“I don’t think that’s the case,” he says, carefully, as if threading on egg shells. “I know he misses you."

I give Bob a disbelieving look.

“People keep saying that, but everything Gerard’s done shows the complete opposite.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bob sighs and looks at Gerard for a brief second. “But he’s been different this fall. If there wasn’t anything between the two of you anymore, he should have been able to move on. But he’s been like, I don’t know… distant. Like there’s something on his mind.”

“Maybe he thinks I hurt him. Like I made him happy and it’s my fault he had to break up with me.”

Bob arches an eyebrow.

“I do hope you realize how stupid that sounds.”

I look at my hands clutching my now empty glass.

“Yeah. I know. But it’s so hard to come to any conclusion when I’ve never heard his side of it.”

“So talk to him,” Bob says, almost pleadingly. This situation is a bit strange, because Bob and I never had this kind of relationship. We know each other, but on tour we never had a serious conversation. To my surprise I realize that it doesn’t feel the least bit awkward. 

“I guess I should,” I say, surprising myself even more. 

But even though I sound sure of myself, I get nauseous even thinking about confronting Gerard.

 

“Talking to Gerard” doesn’t necessarily mean “talking to Gerard right this instant”. I make my escape to the kitchen where Donna is still preparing the enormous Christmas dinner, and is complaining about “half of the guests being vegetarians”. 

“I’m gonna talk to Gerard.”

She looks up from some Italian dish that Gerard and Mikey always persuades her to make. I know what it is from Gerard describing his ultimate Christmas food.

“Yes, I know. I talked to Bob about it just a few minutes ago. He said he was going to go talk to you about it.”

“That’s… great,” I manage to say, hopefully without any trace of sarcasm. I’m not sure how I feel about people trying to fix me, but maybe I needed a push in the right direction this time. If this is the right direction.

After advising me to wait until after dinner, Donna ushers me out of the kitchen and tells me to go talk to Alicia and Jamia. I do as she says, but also wonder who I am to them – Gerard’s ex, probably. I feel a bit intimidated by the fact that both of them managed to hold on to their band members.

I’ve never met any of them before today, but as soon as they see me coming they put on friendly faces and look like I’m a long lost sister. They are both older than me, but I’m used to that by now, since I rarely hang out with people my own age who aren’t part of my band.

“Aubrey, right?” Alicia asks, even though I’m sure she’s certain of my name. "Mikey’s told me so much about you."

Making conversation when you’re desperately trying to avoid looking at someone across the room is not easy, and I think Jamia and Alicia notice exactly where my gaze wanders as I try to keep up with our conversation. They don’t say anything about it, though. I’m used to people knowing about me and Gerard and I’m pretty sure most of the people in this room are wondering what I’m doing here. 

At the dinner table I end up seated between Frank and Mikey, and I force the delicious food down my throat because even though I’m starving, I have no appetite. The faces around me are a blur of colors and the voices mix together until I can’t make out what they’re saying. 

_You have to talk to Gerard._

I can’t do this. I really can’t.

_He hates you. He always hated you. What are you even doing here?_

“Excuse me,” I whisper and almost make my chair fall over in my hurry to leave the table, but I don’t miss Frank’s concerned look or the sudden silence my departure causes. 

Fuck this. I don’t even know why I bothered to come. Gerard obviously doesn’t care about me at all, and everything they’ve been telling me has just been to keep me from jumping off a cliff or something. 

Well, thanks for nothing.

I don’t know how I end up in the basement, in Gerard’s room, but I have to sit down to keep myself from falling over. Barely managing not to hyperventilate, I’m curled up against the wall next to the bed, with my legs pressed against my body. I'm shaking, and I barely register the sound of someone walking down the stairs.

“Hey.”

Gerard. Kneeling in front of me and touching my cheek, looking me in the eye. 

He hasn’t touched me in over six months. I suddenly remember the first time we slept together, and how he touched my cheek exactly like this when we were lying next to each other afterwards. His hair, slightly damp from sweat. The way he smiled at me then.

Come to think of it, all of that happened in this very room. That memory hasn’t hurt me like this in a long time.

“Hey.” If this was a movie, I would have smiled and the exchange of heys would have been a perfect opening for making up. It’s not, though. I don’t smile.

“I’m glad you came here tonight.” He sits down properly, and leans against the wall to my left. I try to take a deep breath but only manage to make it sound like a pathetic sob.

“You didn’t really look like you were.”

“I had no idea mom invited you.” He makes a short stop, and then takes a deep breath: “It really is nice seeing you. I just didn’t know what to say and I kind of… panicked.”

We sit in silence, both waiting for the other to say something. There’s still so much I want to tell Gerard, but I can’t form the words. 

“It’ll work out.” I utter the words mostly to have something at all to say, and in a way I mean it. Gerard gives me a quizzical look.

“What will?”

“This. Us.”

As I say it, I realize it’s the same words Gerard used when he broke up with me. _This. Us._

“Yeah. Probably.” Then, he takes a deep breath, trying to gain some footing. “I just wanted to tell you… I was scared. I was scared because…because I knew I was just going to hurt you, whatever I did. And I knew I had already hurt you when I found the courage to call you again, so I never did."

Is he trying to apologize?

When I don’t say anything, he hesitates before he continues.

“I was a jerk. I didn’t think, I… I just thought that you’d get over it. I thought that _I’d_ get over it."

I want to bang my head against the wall.

No, I want to bang _his_ head against the wall.

“Oh. Great plan.” 

There’s an almost-smile playing at his lips when he hears the sarcasm in my voice, and I know that even though I don’t want anything else than to just sit here with him for the rest of the night, my heart is going to break again if I do that.

“I need to… go.”

I get up from my position on the floor, wincing as my legs protest after being in one position for too long. Stepping over Gerard’s outstretched legs, I make my way towards the stairs. 

“Aubrey."

I turn around at the sound of his voice. There’s something off about it, but I can’t figure out what. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not a very strong apology, and it doesn’t fix everything like you’re told apologies do when you’re little. I’m not really sure what he’s sorry for, either – is it for breaking my heart, or for not being able to explain himself properly? But he really seems to mean it, and that has to count for something. 

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I know.”

 

Sitting in the car, I realize that the image I’ve created in my head during the past months is completely off. Because Gerard is not some distant memory, and neither is he the perfect guy I thought left me because I wasn’t good enough. It feels as if I forgot all I knew about him the moment I decided that it was my fault. And  I realize, with a sudden spark, that I’m actually mad at him. I was mad at first, for his lousy excuse and his even worse way of breaking up, but I have twisted everything into believing that nothing was his fault. It just seemedeasier that way.

As I drive out of Belleville towards the city, there’s a small, fluttering part of me that wants nothing more than to think about Gerard’s hand on my cheek. The other parts are listening to the angriest ones of Karl’s car CDs, trying to make sense of what just happened.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey and Gerard slowly make their way towards being friends again. Aubrey is not entirely convinced that they'll ever get there.

“So, you guys made up?”

Pete and I are having coffee on the 27th of December. He’s supposed to be with family but had to take care of something in New York, and called me during a short break in his schedule. 

“I guess we did. In a way.”

These last few days have been confusing. Am I happy that I’m on speaking terms with Gerard again, or sad because now I have to see him now and then and pretend that everything’s fine, even though it’s not? Knowing that you have to leave something behind and move on with your life is apparently at good thing, but it’s not pleasant.

“Why do you think people kept telling me that we had something?” I ask.

“Probably because you do have something,” is Pete’s reply, and I sigh.

“It’s not like we’re getting back together,” I say. “There is a slight possibility that we might be friends someday, but now…”

“But you’re still in love with him, right?”

“Yeah. But I don’t know if…"

“Have you told him?”

“Why would I tell him?” I ask, and carry on when Pete doesn’t say anything: “I just have to move on. It’s like I haven’t seen it clearly before and now it’s like… I don’t know, like an epiphany.”

“You mean ’sudden realization of great truth’?” Pete says, quoting The Simpsons Movie and making me smile. 

“Something like that.”

Pete looks at me for a few seconds, and then says:

“Well… Some things are not meant to be, I guess.”

I can’t come up with anything to say to that. Because maybe he’s right.

 

December turns into January and I spend New Year’s Eve with the band, celebrating that we’re off to Los Angeles on the fifth. After spending three days mostly recovering from the party, having some last-minute rehearsal and going shopping, Karl and I spend the last day before leaving at home, packing and relaxing. After creating a blog post on our MySpace page as well as accepting some friend requests, there really is nothing to do other than ignoring the fact that we need to clean the flat before leaving it for two months. My bags are packed and the laundry is done. Karl goes out to fetch our take-away dinner.

Oh. Dishes. Wonderful.

This is what happens when you ignore the state of your kitchen sink for too long – you end up having to do the dishes for half an hour, and you may cut your hand on a grater hiding in the murky water. 

After jumping around the kitchen for a while, cursing the grater and the stupid dishes in general, I’ve located the band-aids and my left knuckle is as good as new. It would have been a bit disastrous if I’d cut my finger instead, the day before going on tour. I decide not to endanger myself further and leave the rest of the mountain of dirty plates to its destiny. 

The arrival of a text message is announced by the sound of Kim Possible’s communicator sound. And it’s funny how you can be perfectly fine one minute, doing the dishes, and in the next wonder what the hell happened.

 

_Hey, heard ur going on tour tomorrow. Hope you’ll have a great time. Feel free to call me if u ever wanna talk or something. Friends? /G_

 

Yeah, right. Because friendships an ex-lovers is such a perfect combination. It always works.  I compose my answer during the ride to the airport.

 

_friends :) good to hear from you. Im leaving 4 LA in 2 hours. Looking forward to two months on the road. Hugs/A_

 

I know I shouldn’t tell him that we’re friends. I know I shouldn’t add the smiley. I know texting is probably the worst way of communicating ever invented – it’s a breeding ground for misinterpretations.

That’s why I hurry to send the message before I’ve had any time to think about it.

 

Touring always comes as a bit of a shock – you know you will be completely exhausted after a few days, but you tend to forget that since being on tour is otherwise wonderful. You also learn to appreciate sleeping. 

Despite being tired and sometimes grumpy from lack of sleep, we love this. We’re headlining, our fan base is steadily growing and parts of all this still seem unreal. We’re not the only band on the tour, but we seem to bring the largest crowd to the venues - we’re the last band out every night and the band tees are everywhere to be seen. Our logo, the one Gerard helped design.

It’s easy to let it get to your head, but although I know our band is getting bigger than I ever thought possible, I’m always in some kind of doubt. What have I done to deserve this? How can people find my lyrics and my voice worth listening to?

Self-confidence was never my strongest attribute.

 

**January 10th**

1 new message from: Gerard

10.14 am: hey :) hows the tour going?

 

Aubrey 10.20 am: Going great :) are u coming to see us?

 

Gerard 10.25 am: Depends…

 

Aubrey 10.26 am: On what? :P

 

Gerard 10.30 am: Whether you want us to or not ^^

 

Aubrey 10.32 am: of course I want you to

 

Gerard 10.40 am: Ok Ill ask the others

 

Gerard 11.01 am: hey can I call u later?

 

Aubrey 12.04 pm: yeah when?

 

Gerard 12.10 pm: elevenish?

 

Aubrey 12.15 pm: Ok

 

“Hello?”

He’s on the other side of the country, and I’ve just spent the entire evening forcing myself not to think about him call me. I wasn’t very successful. I’m also dead tired from the show, but at the same time so nervous I can’t sit still.

“Hi, it’s me.”

”Yeah, I know.” The smile is evident in his voice and I can’t help but smile as well.

“So…”

“Yeah.”

But we don’t talk about us. Instead, we talk about everything else – how Mikey’s doing, how tired Gerard is of touring but still is looking forward to it. It doesn’t even feel super weird.

It’ll work out. We just need time. And just hearing his laughter again is soothing, like I can’t remember how mad I am at him whenever he laughs.

 

Believe it or not, I manage not to text him that much during the rest of the tour. I don’t call him, either. It’s like my subconscious has decided thatI need a break.  But that doesn’t stop me from smiling at every message he sends.

“Who is it?”

Noel is the first one to ask, a few weeks into the tour. We’re on the bus just entering Arizona, and we’re playing in Phoenix tonight.

“Er…” I finish my message and send it before turning to Noel. “It’s just… a friend.”

Noel looks at me disbelievingly.

“Yeah, right."

 

**March 9, 9.34 pm**

_Good luck tomorrow :) see u there! /G_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey turns nineteen and has an interesting birthday. (And by interesting, I mean that a lot of people show up to celebrate her, and Gerard is only making things worse. At least he's making things a lot less worse than he did in the earlier version of this chapter.)

“Good to be back?”

We’re backstage at the New York venue, the last night of the tour, during the short break between the soundcheck and the first band entering the stage. The others are hanging out by the stage to check out the bands we’ve toured with, but I’ve stayed behind. 

He’s standing in the doorway of our dressing room, leaning against the doorframe with a Starbucks tray in his right hand and the other hand in his pocket. I’m straightening my hair and I almost burn my hand on the straightener when I hear his voice.

"Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that!"

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, stepping into the room to stand next to me, placing one of the cups from the tray on the table to my right.

“Vanilla latte is still your favorite, right?”

I probably shouldn’t be this touched by the fact that he remembers.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I attempt to smile, and feel my face heat up when he smiles back. I awkwardly return to straightening my hair. 

It’s one thing when you’re texting each other and talking over the phone – but now he’s here, all black hair and nice clothes and smiling at me. It’s like suddenly realizing he actually exists. 

He doesn’t say anything for a while, not until I’ve put down the straightener and is rummaging through my bag for a clean t-shirt to wear tonight. I’m painfully aware of him watching me.

“How are you?” he asks at last, when I’ve been pondering whether to ask him straight out what he’s doing here or just pretend as if him being here is completely normal. I have to remind myself that I was the one who asked him here.

It should be completely normal, right? We’re friends, after all.

“I’m… good,” I say, trying to smile at him. “I’m just tired, you know, from touring."

“Yeah, I was going to talk to you about that…” he says, scratching the back of his neck – a movement that gives me a moment of instant flashbacks, making my heart flutter. I stop what I’m doing to look at him curiously. “Er… The guys and I talked, and we’ve decided to ask you if you wanted to tag along during the rest of our tour. To support us. One of the other bands cancelled."

I guess my shocked expression makes him a bit hesitant, because he looks at bit worried.

“I understand if you don’t want to, I mean, with us and all the stuff that’s happened…”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. I’d love to tour with you guys,” I say, my smile genuine this time. 

Supporting MCR is like a dream come true, even though I’ve known them for almost a year now. (And I’ve had sex with the singer.) “I just have to talk to the rest of the band. And Derek.”

Gerard is looking visibly relieved as he smiles and fills me in on the details of the final leg of the Black Parade tour. And it actually feels great to have some kind of project with Gerard, as if we have something in common other than the obvious “us” issue which we never seem to be able to address completely.

Gerard, Frank, Ray and Mikey watch us from backstage during our performance later that night. It’s strange to sing lines like _I can’t even walk without your air in my lungs/I can’t even stand up when you’re not watching_ when I know how close the reason I wrote those very lyrics is.

 

Our part in the tour doesn’t start until the end of March, and as the rest of my band are pretty excited at the prospect of touring with MCR, we have three weeks off. The original plan was to do some more touring in the US this spring, but what band wouldn’t want to support My Chemical Romance? And as it turns out, Derek had already talked to Brian about it before we even had the chance to tell him. Our manager is just as excited as we are.

As much as I’d like to stay in bed the entire month to recover from the horrible bunk mattresses, I can’t. But most mornings for almost three weeks, I sleep until late and don’t even get out of the house unless I really have to.Karl and I spend our days brainstorming new songs, watching movies or just talking. Noel and Hunter come over almost every day. VH1 has been showing In My Head every now and then, and it might seem strange, but I still feel a little lightheaded every time I realize that our video is on TV. It’s like the person looking so confident and in-your-face on screen isn’t me at all. We didn't have a huge budget, but the video turned out okay. Thanks to the makeup, I think I’m the only one who sees how tired I really was when we shot it. November really wasn’t my best month last year.

-

 

The guys in my band take me out to dinner on my nineteenth birthday, which we’ve spent killing zombies on mine and Karl’s Xbox. Or at least they pretend they’re taking me out to dinner. I guess you could technically call it that, but when I open the door to the restaurant they’ve chosen, I’m met by at least thirty people cheering at me.

“Happy birthday,” Karl says as he gives me a sideways hug, while all I can do is stand there in complete shock. The guys in MCR are there, too, Frank and Mikey almost lift me up in the air while they’re hugging me at the same time. Gerard is there, too, hugging me – tightly, for just a second, wishing me a happy birthday. I see the guys in Fall Out Boy, and someone I’m almost sure is Maja from The Sounds. There are just so many people. Trying not to ruin my make-up, I blink to make the tears go away and hope that nobody has noticed them. 

When I’ve been thoroughly hugged and wished a happy birthday, everyone starts to move towards the enormous taco buffet. The tables are decorated with glitter and balloons, and it amazes me that the guys have made all this.

"We thought this’d be a great time for us to get to know the rest of your band, you know since we’re gonna be touring in a few days," Frank says when we’ve ended up next to each other in the uncoordinated buffet line.

“Oh, so I wasn’t the main priority?” I say, faking an offended expression. Frank laughs.

 

Frank is standing on the makeshift stage an hour later, when everyone has had dinner and the tables have been cleared. "Hi guys, I just wanted to say something about this amazing friend of mine. Her name is Aubrey and she turns nineteen today!"

There’s a lot of cheering going on and Karl has his arm around my shoulders while I’m trying not to look too embarrassed. Frank goes on about how amazing he thinks I am, how we instantly clicked, and I’m impressed by the fact that he manages to not mention my relationship with Gerard the entire speech. Gerard is standing to my right, looking at ease in the way I wish I felt.

“… she was this small thing bouncing around on stage at The Grudge, and we all instantly fell in love with her. I had no idea then that today, I would be standing here saying this: Aubrey, you’re amazing. You’re a fighter, you’re so much fun to be around and I’m proud to call myself your friend. Happy birthday, little sister.”

There’s no use in trying to fight the tears this time. Frank gets off the stage, and The Sounds lunge into Painted By Numbers.

 

I leave the noisy restaurant area in search of the restrooms, to sort out my messed up make-up and my tired head. It looks like Gerard has been waiting for me when I make my way back to the party. He’s sitting in the corridor leading back from the restrooms, and stands up when he sees me coming.

“Hi. I was looking for you,” he says, smiling a little.

“You found me,” I say, smiling back but also at a loss for words. It’s so strange how he can make me smile while also turning my insides into jelly.

He’s looking good today, like he’s put extra effort into making his hair look the way it does. I try to keep smiling, but it probably looks like I’m trying too hard. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I started crying from Frank’s speech." I pull a face, trying to show I’m that it’s nothing. "Don’t worry.”

He smiles at me again and I feel a sudden urge to either hug him or run away, and I’m not really sure which. Gerard looks at something behind me and scratches his left arm.

“So, um… I wanted to give you your birthday gift. Like, here. Because, you know… there’s a lot of other gifts out there and I didn’t want it to get… lost.”

If I didn’t know better I’d say that he is nervous. It’s adorable and nerve-wracking.

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I say. “Really, it’s…”

“Stop it. Here you go.”

He picks up the Barnes & Noble plastic bag from the floor and pulls a small packet from it, wrapped in black paper. There’s no bow. The packet is light and flat, and about the same size as the palm of my hand. There’s no way of telling what’s inside.

With a quick glance at Gerard, who is looking a bit apprehensive, I carefully tear away the bit of tape on the side before opening it. I always open presents like this – carefully. As if I would ever re-use wrapping paper. 

I tilt the opened packet and something wrapped in crinkled paper falls into my hand. 

“It’s nothing big, just… I thought you’d like it.”

Grandmother? The grandmother, as in the Helena grandmother? During our time together, he talked a lot about her. I wish I'd been able to meet her.

The necklace’s silver chain looks ancient, and the pendant is a small black crystal. I look at it in awe for a few seconds.

“Do you like it?”

There’s nothing fancy or extravagant about the gift, but it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever gotten from anyone. Gerard sure knows how to confuse me. 

“I love it. Thank you so much, I…”

This day is unreal as it is, and now this.

“I just thought she’d like you to have it. She would have liked you.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Yeah.”´

We stand there in silence for a moment. I manage to put the necklace on by myself without creating any sort of clasp-related awkwardness.

“Just don’t… there’s nothing behind this, really,” he suddenly says. “It’s not like we’re… you know.”

“It’s okay, I… I know. Don’t worry about it. Thanks."

_Just keep smiling._

I don’t know whether to yell at him or go back to the restrooms to cry, so I settle for somewhere in the middle.

As I walk back, I’ve made up my mind about not caring about my age or any other reason, because I need a fucking drink. The Sounds are playing their last song when we get back, and I’m ushered on stage when Living In America ends. Maja smiles brightly and hugs me even though we don’t know each other that well.

I end up having a great night, getting just about drunk enough not to care that Gerard is still there. E ven though I’m a year older, it’s still too young. I just have to remind myself of that every time I see him.

-

 

Tempe Beach Park Amphitheater is the first stop on this leg of the tour, and it’s a beautiful, warm night as we enter the stage on March 28. I’m tempted to say that I’m getting used to this, but that would be an overstatement. I have to tell the guys to hit me if I ever get used to thousands of people screaming when we show ourselves on stage. 

“Hello Tempe!” I say into the microphone, as the guys adjust their instruments and prepare to play our opening song, Reachers. They cheer in response and I feel on top of the world – this is were I belong. 

"We’re Infinity!" I say, and I hear my own voice amplify over the crowd. I introduce the guys, and myself, and smile and point it out to Karl as a pair of girls on the front row holds up their home-made sign saying "We <3 Karl".

Yes, this is who I am. This is at least a part of me, and I like this Aubrey far better than the one off stage. I like this more than being close to Gerard, constantly worrying about what he’s thinking or wondering if he even cares, even if he said he does.

Our six-song set ends too soon, and we meet Mikey and Ray on our way backstage. They’ve probably watched us, but I’ve been too focused on the performance to notice.

“You guys were awesome,” Mikey beams as the guys and I get our water bottles from a roadie. “You’ve really evolved as a band since the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks,” Hunter says, out of breath

Ray pats my back as I’m taking a swig of water.

“You’ve changed a lot, haven’t you?” he says, as Frank joins Mikey to talk to the others. At my confused look, Ray continues: “Like, before you were this really happy girl on stage who loved doing this,” he makes a gesture in the direction of the stage, “but now you’ve got this… I don’t know, depth.”

I smile.

“Is that bad?”

“No, absolutely not,” Ray replies, shaking his head. “But there’s definitely a difference. Maybe that’s what makes you so special.”

I shrug. I guess he’s right. I’ve already had the feeling that I’ve changed a lot during the last year, but I didn’t know it showed that much on stage. 

“That’s what heartbreak does to you, I guess.”

“Yeah, you’ve gotta thank Gee for that sometime.”

I laugh at this, and it’s not until a few minutes later that I realize what I’ve actually been able to laugh at.

 

The night is still warm when we finally get to our hotel, but I’m tired and tense and shivering as we make our way to our room. Noel and I are sharing, and he practically throws himself on the bed and is snoring softly within minutes.  I, on the other hand, can’t sleep despite the fact that my whole body is exhausted. I leave Noel and step out on the balcony overlooking the pool, and for a moment while leaning against the balcony railing I think about the fact that I could probably jump into the pool from here. If it hadn’t been five floors down, that is.

I have no idea what to expect from this tour. Sure, our fan base is bound to grow and supporting a band this big is a great experience. But knowing me, I’ll probably mess things up with Gerard around. I’ll blow things out of proportion like I always do.

There’s almost no wind, so when someone lights their cigarette on the balcony below, I notice it by the smell. Cigarettes was about the only thing that used to separate me from Gerard. I didn’t mind him smoking, because almost every other person I know also smokes, but I wouldn’t go outside with him every time either.

Just as I’m about to head inside to at least try to avoid passive smoking (I get enough of that as it is), I hear Frank’s voice from below.

“They were good today,” he says, and I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out who he’s talking to.

“Yeah,” Gerard says. I can almost picture him leaning against the railing, like I’m doing, and I quickly take a step back to avoid being seen. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but this may be the only time I’ll be able to be near Gerard without the horrible awkwardness that is our constant companion these days. I don’t really know what to say to him anymore, not since he gave me that necklace and simultaneously tore down what little hope I had concerning us.

“She’s changed a lot, hasn’t she?” Frank continues when Gerard doesn’t, and gets “mhm” in reply. They are both silent for a moment, and I try not to make too much noise when breathing. My heartbeats are pounding in my ears, but I barely notice.

“There’s this edge to her now,” Gerard finally says, sounding distant. “I mean, she was great before but now she’s really got her own thing. It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frank agrees. “Are you two… you know, talking?”

“Of course we’re talking.”

“To each other?”

I can hear Gerard sighing before he replies.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s pretty complicated, you know?”

Frank doesn’t say anything, and I have no idea what he might be thinking. I have the suspicion that the people around us are growing tired of this constant situation, of the unchanging awkwardness.

“I gave her my gran’s necklace for her birthday,” Gerard then says, barely loud enough for me to hear.

“What?”

“Yeah, and I could see it in her eyes, you know? She thought something was up. So I told her that the necklace was all there was to it.”

“Fuck, Gee. You’re not making this easy for her.”

My whole body is tense. It’s so surreal standing here listening to them talking about me, and a part of me knows I shouldn’t. 

“I know. Like I haven’t hurt her enough already. I just wanted her to have it, gran would’ve loved Aubrey.”

“You’re insane.”

“Yeah, nothing new there.”

There is another moment of silence, before Frank says:

“She’s been a wreck, Gee. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

When Gerard doesn’t reply, I hear Frank walking across the balcony back into the room. Gerard stays outside for a few more minutes, and even though there’s no way he could know I’m there, it feels like we’re sharing this moment. A starry night in Tempe, Arizona, with almost one and a half months left of touring together.

No, it’s not going to be easy at all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the end of the ones I wrote during 2007-2008.

It’s strange how some parts of your life seem like a dream when you look at them in retrospect. How it all seems unreal even though you know you were really there – you might even have photos or videos of yourself in a situation you only remember vaguely. And some parts of your life seem unreal even when you’re still in them. 

That’s how I feel about touring with MCR. Like I’m in a constant flow of events that I have no control over; it’s like somebody else is in control of my body.

Except on stage. The real Aubrey shines through there, and I’m pouring all of myself into the performance, to a level that makes the crowd go even wilder. It’s an exhilarating experience and every time I get off stage I feel like collapsing from sheer exhaustion. I feel like I could sleep for days, but unfortunately touring doesn’t really offer that kind of luxury. It’s the odd six hours of sleep if you’re lucky, and then the not very comfortable experience of sleeping on the bus during the days. I still wear hoodies and long sleeved shirts and everyone is probably wondering why, but I don’t want to care. I can feel Frank’s concerned gaze on me sometimes but I assure him that everything’s fine. I love touring. I’m just tired from performing and it’s worth it, because I love being on stage.

I don’t know if anybody else notices. They probably don’t and I’m grateful for that, because I really don’t need people worrying about me. They shouldn’t be. I’m a grown-up, capable of handling my own miseries. And I’m not even miserable – I’m just nothing. In an air-tight bubble. I keep telling myself that I should feel sad about a lot of things. I should definitely feel sad when I notice Gerard flirting with one of our on-tour photographers, but I don’t. I tell myself that I’m probably going mad after all. Either that or my mind has been so stuffed with emotions that it has ultimately shut itself off.

It’s like watching the world from behind a glass wall. 

 

”Hey.”

Gerard slides into the seat in front of me at the diner we’ve stopped at on our way from Birmingham, Alabama to Memphis, Tennessee. It’s been a month since we joined the tour and it’s almost over already, and then Gerard will be out of my everyday life once again. The others are out somewhere, and they’ll probably be able to leave soon.

”Hi.”

”The coffee any good?”

”You can have mine.”

I still don’t drink black coffee but I’m trying to learn. I hand him my still warm cup and he takes it, sips it and makes a face.

”Ew.”

”Yep.”

We haven’t talked much during the tour, and we’ve barely spent any time alone with each other. I’ve gotten to know Mikey better and Frank and I have had our usual easygoing banter going on, and Ray and I have had some guitar jam sessions even though he’s way better than I’ll ever be. I’ve had some late night tea sessions with Bob (who really knows how to properly brew some Earl Grey), and of course I’ve hung out with Infinity. I’m incredibly happy to have recovered some of what was lost during my months of depression. 

But being with Gerard will probably never feel as easy again. The feeling of things being unreal envelops me even more as I sit there, now and then catching a glimpse of Gerard taking another sip from my coffee cup while looking out the window. We don’t say anything for a few minutes, and just as I’m about to stand up and leave, he speaks.

”You know I know why you never wear short sleeves, right?”

A blow to the back of my head. I think I forget how to breathe for a few seconds before I regain some of my composure.

”I’m sorry?”

Gerard meets my gaze.

”I saw the scars. I walked in on you changing the other day."

I close my mouth, suddenly feeling a bit like a gaping fish. I don’t know what to say, but finally I settle for:

”I didn’t know."

Oh, great. The worst reply ever.

"I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But whatever you might think, I still care about you."

”I know you care.”

”Good.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds.

”When?” he asks, his gaze shifting to my covered wrists and back to my eyes again.

”You know when”, I say. ”Right after you left me.”

I don’t feel anything as I say it and I can hear my own voice like it’s someone else’s – indifferent, like it’s telling an unimportant story. Gerard closes his eyes, as if he’s in pain. When he opens them again, he says:

”And now...?”

”It was a phase”, I say. ”I found other ways.”

”To hurt yourself?”

”To try to get over you.”

”Oh. And did you?”

He makes it sound like it’s a casual question, _did you find your keys?_ Of all the other times we could have talked about this, he chooses this.

I shrug. Gerard puts down the coffee cup.

”Oh”, he says again.

I have wondered, during this past month, what kind of girl I would have been if Gerard hadn’t left me. And what kind of person I am to make a breakup change me so thoroughly – like Gerard was the only important thing in my life. I could have met other guys. I could have lived a life and instead I spent these months, almost a year really, moping. All because of this one guy who was my entire world for a short time.

Pathetic? In love? I just know I still can’t imagine my life without him, no matter how badly he has treated me.

”I’m only nineteen”, I say just as Gerard is about to speak again. ”I thought I was so grown up when we met, you know? But you were right, I was too young. I’m still too young.”

And in some grotesque, masochistic way, it feels nice to hear myself say it. Gerard looks a bit like he’s about to cry, and I almost want him to.

”And I’m still in love with you. Of course I am. I’m just a teenager.”

”Will you please stop degrading yourself?”

”Why?”

”Because what you’re saying isn’t...”

”I love you and I hate you, Gerard. You’re still acting as if this is something that we’ll get over. It’s like you don’t realize I put my whole life into what we had, and you thought you could end it just like that.”

His fists are clenching on the table separating us, and I realize that my voice has increased just a fraction in volume. He looks at me like he can’t believe what I’ve just told him, and to be honest, I can’t really believe it myself. I can’t believe I’m telling him everything. He’s been a stranger to me for so long.

”Why didn’t you tell me?”

”I thought you knew. I thought I deserved what I got.”

He covers his face with his hands for a few seconds, taking a few long breaths, and he still isn’t looking at me when he says:

”God, Aubrey, you should have told me all of this.”

”Well, you didn’t really give me a chance, did you?”

My voice is still devoid of any emotions, except from the anger which is starting to seep through. And even though my anger has always brought tears in the past, my voice is steady now.

”I hoped for so long, Gerard”, I say. ”People kept telling me we were meant for each other. Even your mother said you hadn’t moved on yet when I was certain you had, so I kept my hopes up. And it turned me into this.... this person I don’t even know.”

Gerard is about to speak, and I find the cracks in my facade getting larger. His hazel eyes. His shaggy black hair that I haven’t run my fingers through in so long. And here I am, telling him things I’ve kept close to me all this time.

And my phone buzzes in my pocket, accompanied by an anonymous ring tone I chose right after Gerard left and I couldn’t bear hearing his voice every time it rang. I reflexively reach into my pocket to pull the phone out. The number is unknown.

”Don’t. Not now”, Gerard says.

I shouldn’t be picking up, but there is something about the tone of the ringing this time. Of course I know it sounds exactly like it did the last time it rang – but I still pick it up. Instinct, perhaps.

”Aubrey Walker speaking.”

There is a short pause before the person on the other end speaks, and Gerard is looking at me pleadingly. I look away.

”Aubrey? My name is Ethan Grayson, I’m not sure if you remember me...”

The image of a balding man, no more than thirty-five, appears in my mind.

”I had English with your son in high school”, I blurt, suddenly remembering the way Liam Grayson used to tell people his dad was a cop. Like he was really proud of having a father with an actual job, compared to me and Red.

”Yes, I think you... That’s not actually why I’m calling, but I’m glad you remember.”

”Is there something wrong?”

Ethan Grayson sighs heavily. I look out the window at Frank and Karl who are sitting on the ground, enjoying the shadow of one of the tour buses. Frank is laughing at something Karl just said.

”Aubrey, there is no easy way to say this, but there’s been an accident. A fire at your mother’s house.”

There is something about this moment I will remember for the rest of my life. The way Gerard’s expression changes from impatient to worried, and the way the sun through the big windows hits his face. The uncomfortable vinyl seats and the smell of fried food.

”Your mom... she didn’t make it. Asphyxia.”

My hands are cold.

”Aubrey, what is it?”

Gerard’s voice is painfully clear through the fog of what Ethan Grayson is telling me.

”What about Jamie and Elliott?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. Ethan Grayson is quiet for a few sickening seconds.

”I think you’d better come home.”


	18. Chapter 18

How old was I when I first started singing?  
  
I can’t really remember. I’ve probably always been singing in one way or another, in my head and out loud. My mom used to tell me I had a beautiful voice. Later, it turned into: ”You have such a beautiful voice, do you have to use it for that horrible music?”  
  
I kept on singing. It was the only thing I was really good at.  
  
She has dyed her hair. It’s the first thing I notice. It’s darker and it’s curlier and she has aged, too; she looks like she might really be my mother now. She looks a bit like she used to do when she fell asleep on the couch, waiting for me to get home. I would find her there when I got home, creep past her up the stairs, and in the morning pretend I’d gotten in much earlier and that she’d just missed me. ”It’s true, mom, I got in just after eleven. You were already asleep.”  
  
The gurney and the white sheet covering her body tells me she’s not likely to wake up and tell me off, but it almost looks like it. I told them I wanted to see her. Gerard held my hand all the way from the airport to the hospital. I didn’t pull back even when he stroked my hair. And when I told him and Karl that I wanted to see her, they let me. I expected them to put up a fight, to tell me I was too upset or too fragile.  
  
Gerard is right behind me now, standing next to Karl. My closest bandmate immediately called to arrange our travel plans to New Jersey, while Gerard gently talked me out of the initial shock of what the police had told me.  
  
I still haven’t cried. The conversation Gerard and I had mere hours ago has turned into a distant memory. I remember being angry, and having the feeling of finally letting go of something. Other than that, I can only remember the look on his face when I told him about my mother.  
  
Asphyxia. It almost sounds like a name.  
  
Since I left my mother standing there on the sidewalk after she hit me, I haven’t heard from her at all. I thought about calling. To hear Jamie’s voice again would have been wonderful, just to know that they were alright. But I never called. So much was going on already, with Infinity making it big and meeting Gerard, and everything that happened afterwards. Some sister I turned out to be.  
  
It happened two nights ago. The police had some trouble getting hold of me since I changed my phone number and nobody in Madison really knew where I was. Ethan Grayson told me they thought it was an electrical fault – it was an old house, after all. And it wasn’t very well looked after.  
  
Rick's body is somewhere else. I don’t ask. I don’t want to see him. I don’t even want to think about him.  
  
"It doesn’t feel real", I manage to say. "It doesn’t feel anything."  
  
"You don’t have to feel anything", Karl says.  
  
Gerard just holds my hand.  
  
-  
  
Gerard is still holding my hand as we make our way to the children’s ward, while Karl goes outside to call Noel, and Gerard keeps casting poorly disguised looks of worry my way. Any other time I would have been put off by this, but it’s actually a huge relief to have somebody looking out for you. I’m not sure that I have the energy to make any kind of decisions myself right now. It’s hard enough to keep myself upright.  
  
A sympathetically smiling nurse takes us to one of the brightly colored rooms after learning who I am.  
  
"They’re doing okay", she says when I ask. "As well as can be expected. At least they got out of the house relatively unscathed, so we’re mostly keeping them here for observation. Social services is with them right now, but I’ll take you there."  
  
The police told me about the neighbor who saw the fire, and who found the two children by the front porch. Jamie had been holding Elliott’s hand. By then, black smoke had been billowing from the open front door.  
  
_As well as can be expected._ I don’t know what that means.  
  
Jamie is sitting up in bed with the sheets in a heap by her feet. She is dressed in the hospital’s clothes, and her blonde pigtails look lifeless and dull. A man with glasses, probably someone from social services, is talking to her. Elliott is on the floor, playing with some hospital toys. All of them look up as we enter.  
  
"Aubrey?"  
  
Jamie looks hesitant, like my name is foreign to her. Elliott just looks at me. I realize that he doesn’t even recognize me, and my grip on Gerard’s hand tightens.  
  
"Hi, guys."  
  
I try to smile, but it probably comes out as a grimace.  
  
"You must be Jamie and Elliott’s sister," the man says, giving us a more successful smile. He gets up to shake my hand. It’s a firm, warm handshake. "I’m Landon Currer, with social services. And you are?"

Gerard lets go of my hand to shake Mr Currer’s.  
  
"Gerard. I’m just here for…"  
  
"He’s family", I cut off, knowing that they probably wouldn’t let him be here otherwise.  
  
"I see." Currer looks hesitant. "I’ll leave you for a minute, then. But perhaps I could have a word with you outside first, Aubrey?"  
  
I nod, and when Gerard gives me a questioning look I tug him along with me. The door closes softly behind us and we’re out in the hallway again.  
  
"I’m sorry for your loss", Currer begins, and I thank him. "It’s good that you’re here, but you should know that we’ve already called your aunt."  
  
"… Aunt?"  
  
Without explaining, Currer continues: "Your parents had arranged for her to be the children’s legal guardian, should anything happen to them."  
  
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what the man is saying.  
  
"I don’t have an aunt", I say. "My mom was an only child." My mom was the only family I ever had, before Elliott and Jamie came along. Both my grandparents died in a car crash when my mom was fourteen.  
  
Landon Currer frowns and pulls out a notebook from his pocket.  
  
"So you’re not related to Linda Mason?"  
  
Oh.  
  
"Linda’s not my aunt", I say. "I mean, she's the kids’ aunt, but Rick isn’t… wasn’t my dad. Linda’s his sister."  
  
Of course mom wouldn’t have left her kids in my care. I haven’t realized until this moment, though, that there could be any other outcome. The fact that Rick had a sister has totally slipped my mind until now, and there is disappointment mixed with dreadful relief pooling in my stomach.  
  
Currer lights up. "Oh, I see. She should be here any minute now, so that the two of you can work out the details."  
  
I have so many questions, but I don’t seem to be able to get any of them out. Where does this Linda person even live? Does she even know Elliott and Jamie?  
  
Do I even know them?  
  
-  
  
When I walk back into the room with Elliott and Jamie, I don’t know what to say. I left these kids in the hands of my awful mother, and I was the only person in the world who Jamie really trusted. I knew that, and I still left. For a whole year. And for what? Were my dreams worth more than these kids’ wellbeing? It’s not that mom and Rick were totally awful parents, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call them 'loving'.  
  
I sit down at the end of Jamie’s bed. Gerard is waiting outside, and said that I probably should talk to the kids alone. I agreed, but even though I know it’s the right thing, my palms are sweating.  
  
Elliott, who has grown more than I care to admit, seems to have realized that I can be trusted and comes over to place the stuffed animal, an elephant, in my lap.  
  
"Thank you", I say, although it sounds more like a whisper. "What a nice elephant, Elliott."

He grins at me and goes back to the other toys.  
  
The look Jamie on Jamie’s face makes me want to cry. She won’t even look me in the eye.  
  
"You didn’t come back", she says, looking down at the threadbare sleeve of her shirt. "I waited for forever. Mom said that you’d left us to be with Gerard."  
  
My heart sinks. Some of my last memories of Jamie are of her on Gerard’s shoulders that night in New York. She trusted him, and then mom told her that it was Gerard who took me away from her.  
  
Well, it’s not entirely untrue, but I’d like to think that I had some say in it.  
  
"I’m sorry, Jamie", I say at last. "I didn’t leave just to be with Gerard, but… You know, mom didn’t want me to be who I was, so I had to leave. You know that, right?"  
  
Even to me, my words sound hollow. Jamie shrugs.  
  
I can feel my throat constricting, and there’s this weight on my chest that makes it harder to breathe. Finally, Jamie looks up at me.  
  
"They told me mom died", she says. "I woke up and couldn’t see anything, so I woke Elliott up and we went out, like they said we should do in school. But I couldn’t get up the stairs because I couldn’t see. And mom and dad weren’t outside like they should have."  
  
There’s no use stopping the tears now, but Jamie isn’t crying; she’s just stating the facts.  
  
"It wasn’t your fault", I say, trying but failing in my attempt to make my voice sound steady. "It was an accident. And you did a really good job getting Elliott out."  
  
Jamie shrugs again, and I realize that if the bubbly five-year-old I knew is still in there somewhere, she isn’t going to emerge anytime soon.  
  
-  
  
Linda Mason turns out to be a nice-looking woman in chucks and a flowery dress, and I instantly trust her more than I ever trusted Rick. I can't even tell that she's his sister. She shakes my hand when we meet in the hallway and tells me how sorry she is, and I’m polite and tell her that I’m doing alright, I’m just concerned about the kids. Linda has her wife with her, who smiles at me and Gerard while we make introductions, but then lets Linda do the talking. Both are in their mid-thirties.  
  
"We just flew in from Oregon", Linda says. "As soon as we heard. It’s an awful business, all of it. I didn’t even know that Rick had made me the legal guardian of his kids, I haven’t even talked to him in years, really."  
  
She almost looks apologetic. She speaks in a hurry, like she’s afraid of being interrupted. I wonder to myself if it has something to do with growing up with Rick.  
  
I want to ask her what happened, but I’m thankful that I don’t need to.  
  
"You see, Rick was my older brother, and he didn’t approve when I met Thea and moved across the country. I guess you could say that he was old-fashioned. Or just a homophobe." She makes a face, but then seems to realize that she’s talking about somebody who just died, and looks apologetic again. "Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Aubrey, even if it’s under these circumstances."  
  
It’s my first real smile in what feels like forever. If this woman has had the same experience with Rick as I have, maybe leaving Elliott and Jamie with her won’t be such a hard thing to do.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big decisions are happening.
> 
> (I realized I had messed up the numbering on the chapters, so there'll be a few more than I originally thought.)

When we get to the hotel, it’s almost one in the morning. We were lucky to catch a flight to Newark on such short notice, but the flight took almost five hours and we didn’t arrive until late in the afternoon. I’m probably exhausted, but I haven’t realized it yet. Gerard is sitting on one of the beds and is on the phone with Brian, and I can hear the manager’s determination despite not being able to make out the exact words.

"Hey, Brian, she’s just lost her _mother,_ for fuck’s sake. I can’t… But… Do you think you could have some sympathy, at least? What? Yeah, Karl is here, I know…"

At last, he hangs up, and I look at him already knowing what Brian said. Gerard sighs, frustrated. 

"He wants me to take the first flight back tomorrow. No discussion. I’m sorry, A."

"Don’t worry about it", I say, trying not to sound too disappointed. "You can hardly blame him."

Derek took one look at me and immediately cancelled our supporting act for a week, "to begin with". But since the tour finale is next Friday in Madison Square Garden, I kind of figured that he hopes I’ll be okay by then. He never said it out loud, but he’s been going on about that particular tour date since we joined as supporting act. "Back to where it all began", as he put it. I can’t deny that I don’t want to miss out on playing at that particular venue; I mean, what kid hasn’t dreamt about being met by a roaring Madison Square Garden? Right now all of it feels so far away, though.

"Still, I just…" Gerard covers his face with his hands for a moment. "I wanna be here for you, y’know?"

"Hey, it’s okay." I sit down next to him on the questionable bedspread. "You knew what my mom was like. I’m not such a mess right now, am I?" I attempt a smile, and he attempts a smile back, and it kind of feels good to be alive for a moment.

"I’ll stick around, too", Karl says. "We can go pay Red a visit to blow off some steam." He grins at me at this, and I scrunch my nose at the thought of our old drummer. 

"Is he still in town?"

"Last I heard, he was."

 

Karl decides to go to sleep not long after that. It is after midnight, after all, but I still don’t feel tired. I’ve probably pushed the boundaries too far, and wouldn’t be able to sleep now even if I tried. 

"I’m going for a walk", I announce, and to my surprise, Gerard doesn’t question me. He just grabs his hoodie and follows me out the door.

"Needed the air", he shrugs.

"I didn’t ask." I’m as surprised as he is when I squeeze his arm lightly. "I’m just glad you’re here."

He gives me a look that I can’t quite interpret, and we leave the hotel in silence. It’s a warm night, but it’s a Thursday so there aren’t that many people about. Downtown Madison never had much action to begin with. The usual drunks are hanging out in the park, and it almost feels like if I never left.

I point out my old high school to Gerard, and he asks if I regret leaving. I have to think about it for a minute.

"I don’t regret leaving Madison", I say. "I don’t regret any of that. But I guess I could have waited until I had my diploma. Life would probably feel a bit better then. I mean, I don’t exactly feel like going to college, but if Infinity doesn’t work out… I guess it would have been nice to have options."

God, a year ago I would have hit myself over the head for saying that.

Gerard smiles at me sideways, and says:

"You know, sometimes I forget that you’re so young." I try not to take offense, but he probably senses that I have. "Hey, you were still in high school when we met. A lot of people would call that weird."

"I know. A lot of people did call that weird. I never thought it was, though."

"Me neither. At first." Oh right. Gerard takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that it’s getting clearer to me how much you’ve… grown? Er, sorry, that’s a really bad word for it."

"No, I get it. As long as you don’t mean that I’ve gotten taller," I say, smiling. Gerard laughs at this, and my heart suddenly feels tighter in my chest. Every emotion I’ve ever had concerning him is suddenly there with nowhere to go. 

"You know, it’s not impossible to finish high school later on", Gerard says, apparently unaffected by my sudden bout of emotions. "I mean, if you’d like the options. I never regretted going to college, either."

"You’re probably right", I manage to say, and Gerard seemingly realizes that I don’t have the energy to talk about my nonexistent college plans and drops the subject.

It doesn’t occur to me where I’m going until we’re standing by the police tape in front of the blackened remains of my childhood home. Most of the house is still there, but even in the dim glow from the streetlights, it’s apparent that the house is beyond saving. Most of the windows of the two-story building are broken, and the kitchen windows are just gaping holes. That’s where the fire started. It’s a miracle that Jamie and Elliott even got out of there, or so the police told me.

I take Gerard’s hand. It doesn’t mean anything other than what we make it out to be, and right now I need him to hold my hand. 

"I never even called her", I say, more quietly than I would have liked. "I never even told her I was okay."

"She could just google your name, right? I’m sure she knew you were doing fine", Gerard says. 

"Yeah, but still."

"Hey, she was _your_ mom", Gerard says. "Not the other way around. If she had wanted to, she could have gotten in touch. Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean she gets a pass."

He’s right. I know he’s right, even though his words sound harsher than he probably intended.

"Moms are supposed to support you", I say, and for the first time today, I feel the tiredness sweeping over me. It’s the same kind of tired as when Noel and Karl found me in the tour bus all those months ago, only deeper in some way. "Right? Moms are supposed to tell you they love you despite everything, even when you meet thirty-year-old musicians and run away from home." I try to smile at him, but there are too many memories there. "Even if they think it’s wrong, they should love you. But she never even called. She never even… she hadn’t told me that she loved me in _years."_

I don’t even register my voice breaking. Gerard doesn’t say anything more; he just puts his arms around me and lets me cry.

-

Karl and I make our way to the hospital again the next morning, after we’ve said goodbye to Gerard. I would really like to be in the cab with him on my way to the airport right now, but at the same time, I really need to see Elliott and Jamie. There’s just so much we need to work out, and then there’s the funeral to take care of. I don’t know where to begin. I’ve never even been to a funeral.

And Gerard has invaded my head again; it’s like he never left. After we got back to the hotel last night, there was an awkward moment when I didn’t know if it was okay to get changed in front of him. I’m so used to the guys in the band seeing me half-naked all the time, but I had no I idea whether or not Gerard would think it was weird. And after deciding that I didn’t care because I was too tired, I realized that Karl had wrapped himself in the only blanket provided on the queen-sized bed that we were supposed to share.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing only my underwear anda tank top when Gerard emerged from the bathroom.

"What’s wrong?"

He had just taken a shower and was wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt. His hair had curled slightly at the ends from the water, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about my appearance. I had showered that morning, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. My hair was a mess, but on the other hand, it had been a mess for several months.

"Karl hogged the sheets", I said quietly, trying not to wake Karl up even though I would have to eventually if I wanted some part of that blanket. Gerard smiled at me, and a million thoughts flew threw my head before he said:

"We can share. You know I’m not a hogger."

"No, but you know I am, right?"

"Yeah, and I survived before, didn’t I?"

I don’t know if it was the tiredness or the way he smiled at me, but I didn’t protest. I just went over to his bed and climbed under his sheets – ordinary, stale hotel sheets smelling of detergent. Thirty seconds passed before Gerard joined me, but I was already falling asleep by then. The last thing I remember before falling asleep is the bed shifting as he lay down beside me, so far away that he didn’t touch me, but close enough for me to know that if I just reached out, he would be there.

The next thing I remember is gasping for breath, panicking as I tried to get away from the flames in my nightmare. _Jamie. Get Jamie out. Get her out now._

I was drenched in sweat, but still, Gerard was there, holding me close and whispering in my ear. 

"It’s just a nightmare, A. You’re alright, I’ve got you."

I can still feel him holding me as Karl and I get into the elevator. Karl still hasn’t asked why I slept in Gerard’s bed, but perhaps he doesn’t have to.

I’ve showered and I’m wearing clean clothes, but Gerard is still there, making my heart skip a beat every time he comes to mind. I feel like I’m intoxicated and filled to the brink with grief at the same time. Like the worst roller-coaster in the world.

Linda and Thea are already with Elliott and Jamie when we get there. Elliott is sitting on Thea’s lap, talking animately about his elephant while Thea does her best to keep up. Linda is helping Jamie pack. A shiny new backpack with the tags still on is lying on the bed, and I wonder if any of the stuff from the house was salvageable. 

"Oh, hi!" Linda says when she sees us. "I’ve talked to the doctor, and they’re ready to be discharged." She is smiling, but then bites her lip as if she has suddenly realized something. "Of course, we’ll need to sit down and talk about this. Now that we’ve all had some rest, I mean."

"Yeah, that’d be good."

Jamie looked up at us when we entered the room, but has now gone back to not meeting my gaze. She looks a bit better, though. I wonder who did her French braid and realize that it must be Linda, who is sporting the same hairstyle. I’ve never known how to make French braids.

I leave the room with Linda while Thea and Karl stay with the kids. I don’t know if Jamie remembers Karl, but the odds are that she’ll probably rather talk to him than me anyway.

"Obviously, we want you to be a part of the kids’ life as much as possible", Linda says when we sit down in the visitor’s lounge. "I know it’s far away, but I gather that you’re kind of used to traveling?"

She smiles at me knowingly, and I probably look surprised because she says: "Oh, Thea likes your music. And she listens to My Chemical Romance all the time in the car. I have to tell her to switch once in a while."

"Oh, right. Thanks." I smile back, feeling awkward. "Gerard had to go back this morning, we’re supposed to be on tour with them, but…" Linda nods in silent understanding at this. "So yeah, I’m used to traveling. And it’s like… I love New York, but I’ll probably start looking into moving to the west coast."

As I hear myself say this, I realize that it’s not even something I have to think about. Of course I’ll move, if it means being closer to Elliott and Jamie. Even if Jamie never speaks to me again, leaving her again is not an option.

I don’t really know how to break that particular fact to the band, though.

Linda looks surprised, but pleased. 

"That’d be wonderful. You’re always welcome at our place." She looks at me again, as if she’s thinking about saying something. Finally, she says: "I know this is going to sound strange, but…" There’s that apologetic face again. "Thea and I… well, we always wanted kids. And while this tragedy is obviously not something we wished for, we’re so incredibly happy to be able to be there for your siblings. I just want you to know that."

I don’t know what to say, but there is suddenly a lump in my throat.

"You’ll probably be able to give them a better life than I ever could", I say at last. And I believe that. What life could I give them? When Gerard broke up with me, I didn’t get his talk about being able to be young, to not rush into things. But there’s a part of me now that is so relieved by the fact that I don’t have to take full responsibility for my siblings. I’ve buried it deep, and even touching this subject makes my chest hurt from the shame. I want to be there for them, and I want to be able to take them to school and put them to bed and get to know them again, but I don’t want to do it alone. I don’t want to leave everything I have behind. And when I look at Linda, I think that she understands at least a part of that. 

She smiles, and to my surprise, she reaches across the table to squeeze my hand.

"I think that you just need to be their big sister, honey. It’s not your job to think about anything else."


	20. Chapter 20

As soon as the cops are done with their investigation of the house, I’m supposed to be allowed to go inside. It probably has to be torn down, but the whole house wasn’t damaged. We’re going to go there to see if there’s any of mom’s stuff that can be saved. I’m positive that she hasn’t kept any of the things I left when I moved out, and if she did, they have probably been destroyed. Thea works in insurance and has promised to help me with the process – I have apparently inherited the house, but I mostly want to leave Madison as soon as possible.

The investigation takes a few days, though, even though it was almost certainly an accident. Karl and I spend those days either with Jamie, Elliott, Linda and Thea, or just by ourselves, talking.

I tell Karl about moving to the west coast, and he says "then I’ll go, too" without a moment’s hesitation. 

We’re sitting on the steps to our old high school. It’s a Sunday, and the schoolyard is empty. I look at Karl like he’s gone crazy.

"You’d do that?"

"Of course I would. And the others would, too."

"But it’s just… it’s asking for too much. I can’t force you to move across the country."  
Karl looks at me funnily, like I’ve lost my mind.

"You’re not forcing us. Maybe we won’t move to whatever small town Linda and Thea’s from, but we’re family, A. Of course we’d come with you."

I sit there in stunned silence, and I have to take a breath and remember that I’m surrounded by people who love me. People who would move hundreds of miles just to keep our band together.

Karl puts his arm around my shoulders.

"Hey, we love you. I know you don’t always get that, but we do. And we love being in this band with you. This has been the best year of my life," he says. 

There have been so many times when I’ve taken his love for granted: throughout my relationship with Gerard; through the breakup; and through the entire autumn I spent at the bottom of the pit of my depression. And through all of that, Karl has just been waiting for me to figure things out. Sure, he hasn’t always been _happy_ about it – he’s been worried, and even mad at me. But he let me do my thing, trusting me to find my way out.

If there had been even an inclination of attraction between us, I would have been in so much trouble right now.

"Yeah, this fucking year," I say, and suddenly I burst out laughing. It’s the kind of silent, shaking laughter were I’m not sure why I’m crying at the same time, and Karl looks and me and laughs too. 

"This fucking year indeed."

 

That same night, I see Red from a distance outside Whole Foods while Karl is getting breakfast for tomorrow. It’s a warm night, and even though it’s early May I’m sweating in my black hoodie. I’m waiting outside, leaning against the brick wall behind the corner from the entrance, reading a text from Gerard ( _No show tonight, wish I could be with u right now)_ when I look up for a second to see Red across the street. He doesn’t see me, and I don’t make an effort to be seen either.

I’d like to imagine that I’ve changed a lot from what I was just a little over a year ago. Madison hasn’t changed at all, and the contrast has been apparent ever since I came here – at least to me. This is not my town anymore. But seeing Red is like turning back time. Everything, from his curly dark hair to his Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt, is exactly the same.

He crosses the street, and at this time of night, the only reason for that is that he either has a craving for sushi or for unprocessed food. At first, he doesn’t see me. The last time he saw me, I had red hair which was much longer than it is now, and the brownish dye in it now doesn’t really stand out. He almost walks right past me.

"Hi, Red."

I have to say something, right? For a moment, I consider the fact that he may just be ignoring me, but he stops dead in his tracks and looks at me, shocked.

"It’s been a long time", I say smiling, trying to be polite. 

"Yeah."

He has his hands in his pockets, and he looks around as if trying to find a way to escape. 

"It’s good to see you."

I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

"Yeah. You too", he says. I almost feel sorry for him, and have to remind myself that it wasn’t my fault that he decided to leave the band. 

A million possibilities fly through my mind while we’re standing there. I could have loved him back. I could not have met Gerard that Saturday in Newark. He could still have been our drummer, having this amazing experience with the rest of us.

But if I hadn’t met Gerard, Infinity might never have made it. And Red still would have been in love with me, and I wouldn’t have loved him back.

"How’ve you been doing?" I ask, mostly to make this silence less awkward. It’s obvious that Red isn’t looking at me but at the brick wall behind me.

"Pretty well", he says, shrugging. "Our band is playing at The Grudge next week. I just have to get time off work."

He says the last part defiantly, like he’s testing me. "Oh, you’re in a band?" I say, refusing to take the bait. Still smiling. 

"Yeah. We’re doing pretty well, actually."

"Good for you." 

I can’t really think of anything else to say. He barely conceals his bitterness with his statement about his band, and I’m still smiling.

Karl walks around the corner just then, looking for me. When he sees Red, he doesn’t look the least bit surprised, but I can see the slight shift in his jaw when he clenches it.

"Hey, Red. Good to see you, man."

They exchange an awkward handshake, and Karl gives me a questioning look. _Are we leaving or what?_

"It was nice seeing you, Red", I say. He looks at me properly for the first time then, and for a moment, my childhood friend is looking back at me. Two six-year-olds on swings. Two fourteen-year-olds sneaking out to share a beer behind the Bakers’ garage. Two fifteen-year-old sharing their first awkward kiss.

What if I’d loved him instead?

But he doesn’t say anything until we’re walking away.

"I’m sorry about your mom."

When I turn back to thank him, he has already turned away.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The updates will probably be less frequent from now on, since I'm still writing the last chapters. (In other words, you won't get two updates a day. I really hope that you'll be able to live with that.)

Everything that hasn’t been damaged by the fire is either covered in soot, water-damaged, or both. Liam Grayson’s dad accompanies me, Linda and Thea as we slowly make our way through the debris. Almost the entire downstairs area is burned out, and even though I recognize the outline of the rooms, it’s hard to believe I spent my entire childhood here. My mom inherited this house from her parents. There’s so much history here, even though I mostly don’t want to think about any of it. 

Everything smells like smoke, even though the fire has been out for days. Elliott and Jamie’s room on the same floor as the kitchen is hardly recognizable either, and looking at it, it hits me again how incredibly lucky they were to get out at all. The blackened remains of Elliott’s bed make me want to look away.

The stairs are pretty much intact, and even though I know that going up there means being so close to where my mother and Rick died, it’s like I have to. 

The smell of smoke is still strong up here, but the fire has barely touched this part of the house. The walls have a grey tinge from the smoke, and the railing on the landing is covered in a thin layer of soot. Careful not to touch anything, I swallow hard as I walk into mom and Rick’s bedroom. 

At first, I don’t think there’s anything here worth saving. I don’t know the people who lived here, not really – there’s nothing, no sense of lost safety or longing for what I used to have. The dresser is filled with clothes I don’t recognize, and even though I faintly remember loving the way my mom smelled when I was little, everything smells the same now. 

She wasn’t just my mom, though. And even though I may have mostly hated her, she was Elliott and Jamie’s mom too. I don’t want them to remember her just from me. So I grab the photo albums from the bookcase. Mom wasn’t much for keeping memories; most of the stuff from my childhood is contained within these pages. I take down the baby pictures of Elliott and Jamie from the bedroom wall, realizing that the other ones were downstairs. There’s no way they weren’t destroyed in the fire.

I hesitate for a moment before opening the door to what used to be my room. 

Where I used to have band posters and photos taped to the wall, there’s nothing. A stationary bike stands in the corner where my bed used to be. My desk is there, but it’s empty. For a minute, I’m convinced that she threw all my stuff out.

That’s when I see the cardboard box in one of the corners. There are no markings on it to tell me what’s inside, but when I open the lid, I realize that all my stuff is there. My posters, my CDs, my old stuffed animals. She kept all of it.

I put the photo albums and the framed pictures on top of the box before I carry it downstairs.

 

I wake up early the day of the funeral. Karl is still in bed, snoring softly, and I guess that’s what woke me up. The room is hot and stuffy, and I’ve tangled my legs with the sheets.  After untangling myself, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. It’s only half past seven, but since the funeral is at ten I should be getting up soon anyway.

I’ve been trying to come up with how I’m supposed to feel the entire week, but even as I’m lying here, I don’t have the slightest idea. I’ve cried, and I’ve gone through mom’s belongings, and I’ve managed to sort out paperwork with Thea, but I still don’t feel any of the stuff you’re supposed to feel when you mother dies. People keep telling me that they’re sorry for my loss, but I’m not even sure that I’m sorry myself.

Of course I loved my mother. At least a part of me did – the part that still remembers all the good stuff, like having pizza at Christmas, or the way she stayed up waiting for me some nights even though she had two small children to take care of. I remember when it was still just the two of us, and how she used to drive me each morning when I was still in elementary school. And it hurts losing that. But it hurt a lot more to have her disregard every dream I ever had. A ll the good stuff has mixed with the bad, and I can’t make sense of it. I remember all the times she forgot to pick me up from school, and how she always started to cry and yelled at me if I dared to ask anything about my dad. I remember how the house was filled with photos of Elliott and Jamie, but how there wasn’t a single photo of me on display after Rick moved in.

In a way, it was as if I was already gone when I moved out.

We’ve switched hotels to be closer to Linda, Thea, and the kids. I wonder if any of them are up for breakfast yet. Yesterday was the first day since we came here that Jamie actually wanted me to read her bedtime story, and I did my best to keep a straight face during Who Will Comfort Toffle? even though my heart was about to burst. Linda and Thea are taking the kids back with them to Oregon tomorrow, and I’m not sure how I feel about that either. One one hand, I’m still so incredibly relieved that Linda and Thea will take care of them – two responsible adults with financial stability, a loving home, and who want nothing more than to give Elliott and Jamie a stable upbringing. On the other, I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if Jamie ever gives me that look she gave me at the hospital again. _Mom said you’d left us._

"These things take time", Linda told me a few days ago. "She’ll be okay. Kids need time to grieve just as adults do."

I gave Linda the photo albums. I don’t need them, and if I ever do, they’ll be safe in their house in Oregon.

Karl is still asleep when I get up to take a shower. The water is almost cold when I step into it, but the air conditioning hasn’t kicked in yet and I feel like I need to wake up. When I step back into the room wrapped in a towel, Karl is still snoring and Gerard has texted me, wondering if I’m up.

_Yup. Strange day._

_Anything I can do?_

_Can I call you?_

I put on my sweats and a t-shirt before going out to sit in the hallway to call him. My jumbled thoughts need something to distract them, and hearing Gerard’s voice does just that.

"Hey."

"Hey", I say, and find myself smiling. 

We’ve talked on the phone every day for the last four days. I’ve almost gotten used to talking to him again. It kind of scares me. And it also makes me want to call him every day. 

I tell him about my ambiguous feelings concerning Jamie and Elliott going to Oregon.

"So are you thinking of moving over there?" Gerard asks. I bite my lip. I haven’t told him yet. I haven’t told anyone since Karl and I talked about it.

"Yeah, I am."

"That’d be good though, wouldn’t it? You love those kids", Gerard says, and I can’t detect anything in his voice except support. I’m not sure if I should be happy or disappointed. "Your band’s in on it, right?"

"I think so."

"So it’s practically decided then."

He makes it sound so simple. It’s almost like I don’t have my entire life in New York and that I have to feel responsible for my closest friends having to move across the country. 

"Hey, I was thinking that maybe we could come to Philly tonight", I say, trying to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about moving to Oregon. I don’t want to talk about moving further away from him. "I know we’re not supposed to support until Friday, but I just want Jamie to see you guys perform. Just to take her mind off things for a while."

"Yeah, of course you should come. I want to see her too."

We make our plans for tonight as the wetness of my hair turns the back of my t-shirt damp.

"I miss you", I hear myself say when we’re about to hang up. "Especially today."

"You know I would have come if…"

"Yeah, I know I told you I didn’t need you to. I need to do this alone, y’know? But I still miss you."

"Yeah. I miss you too."

My heart is still soaring and plummeting at the same time when we do hang up, and I go back into our hotel room where Karl is brushing his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos or a comment if you feel like it! :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, and also fluff.

I’m wearing a dress. The last time I wore a dress, it was Christmas Eve and I saw Gerard for the first time since our breakup. It’s even the same dress this time – the black, long-sleeved one with the crew neck and red buttons. And it’s not the same kind of anxiety as that day, but it’s close enough. I don’t know if the dress has anything to do with it. It’s almost 70 degrees out and I can feel the sweat running down my back. I sit through the entire service with Jamie on one side and Elliott on the other, trying not to think about the bodies in the coffins.

Karl, Noel and Hunter are in the back. Not because any of them even knew my mother that well, but because she was my mother. Other than that, there aren’t that many people here – some of mom and Rick’s colleagues, all of them very sombre-looking. I don’t know any of their names. 

The funeral director asked me to do the eulogy for my mother, and I refused. Joan Harris is standing up there now telling lies. There’s a part of me that regrets saying no now, but at the same time I couldn’t have gone up there and told all these people what I actually thought. 25 percent good memories, 75 percent bad. 

"Sarah always had time for her children", Joan says, sniffling. "And I’ve never seen a person so happy as when she found out she was pregnant."

Lies, all of it. I remember the way my mother didn’t tell me until she was almost five months along, and even then she was reluctant to. Like she didn’t want to admit it to herself, and certainly not to me. I was the thirteen-year-old who made sure she took her vitamins. I threw away every cigarette pack she brought home during those months.

I’m holding Jamie’s hand, and she throws a glance my way as I realize that I’ve been gripping it harder for every word that Joan has said.

Linda goes up to say something about Rick, but mostly make it about his kids. When the caskets are finally lowered into the ground, I can’t help but think that if I had known my mother at all, this might have been a beautiful moment. I would have felt something other than stifling social pressure to at least cry.

The sun is out, and the temperature just keeps rising. We get into Linda and Thea’s rental car to go and have a late lunch, and I ask Jamie if she’d like to come see MCR tonight.  It’s a long shot, and I doubt she’s been able to listen to her favorite music at all for the entire year I was gone. Maybe she doesn’t even remember them, and maybe she just sees Gerard as the guy who took her sister away. But I need to show her some part of my life before she goes to Oregon.

She looks at me for half a second before exclaiming:

"Oh my god, yes!" She’s grinning, and I’m wondering how much of her childhood I’ve really missed out on since she suddenly sounds like a teenager. Then she suddenly tenses and says: "But Thea has to come. Thea loves My Chem."

 

Even if it’s kind of weird doing fun stuff on the day of your mother’s funeral, it’s so nice seeing Jamie enjoying herself. Thea, who apparently spent the entire flight from Oregon reading up on the way children grieve, tells me before we leave for Philly that I shouldn’t feel bad. "If Jamie wants to talk, you’ll have to be there. But locking ourselves up isn’t going to do her any good."

This night is all about what Jamie wants. If she’d said no, I wouldn’t have pushed it. If she wants to leave once we get there, we’ll go. But right now she seems happy. She has asked a lot of questions about the funeral during the week, and she went with us to look at the house to just see it in daylight.

As I help Jamie put her hair in pigtails and let her decide which clothes to wear from the things Linda and Thea has bought for her, I wonder if the guilt she felt that first day at the hospital will ever go away completely. Maybe it won’t matter that she _knows_ she couldn’t have done anything differently, and that she got her brother out. She still hasn’t talked about the fire since that day.

She’ll probably need years of therapy. But then again, I’ll probably need that too.

When we’re done, and Jamie is in her black leggings, red Vans and red-and-black checkered t-shirt, Linda snaps a picture of the two of us with my phone. I look at it for what seems like minutes when she gives me my phone back, even though I was just going to send it to Gerard. It’s probably one of the few pictures that still exists of me and Jamie, and I realize that I actually look happy. My makeup is still the one I did for the funeral and my band shirt is crinkled, but standing next to Jamie, I look like I might actually pull off this sister thing again.

 

**Aubrey:** _This 6 y o is about as happy as I am about tonight_

**Gerard:** _< 3_

 

The car ride to Philadelphia takes us almost two hours, but Thea’s driving and we spend the ride listening to MCR and talking. I’m very impressed that Thea manages to come off as completely sensible even though I know what a huge fan she is. It’s five in the afternoon when we get to the venue, and there’s already a long line forming out front. We can see them from where we’ve parked the car, but I’ve called Gerard to let him know we’re coming, and he told us to meet Big Worm by the backstage door.

Jamie is wide-eyed as Worm lets us in. Mostly because Worm is kind of scary-looking (even though he smiles and hugs me), but also because there are a lot of grownups backstage. They all look at us, or rather at Jamie, as Worm leads us through the corridors to the dressing rooms. Maybe bringing a six-year-old to a My Chemical Romance concert is about as common as bringing one with you to a club in Manhattan, but at least Jamie looks the part. She’s dressed like a miniature of half the people here.

We meet Frank first, and he grins and high-fives Jamie before introducing himself to Thea. When he turns to hug me tightly, he’s suddenly serious.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." I try to smile, and he gives me a small, sympathetic smile back before leading the way towards the rest of the band, who are currently having pizza in the dining area. Gerard stands up when he sees us, and I barely have time to think about the fact that this could possibly be awkward before he’s hugging me too. 

I want to tell him that I’ve missed him. I want to tell him that I don’t know what to do with all these feelings, the ones concerning him, which are currently all jumbled with the fact that I just went to my mother’s funeral. But I smile at him and try to revel in the fact that he smiles back at me, and that he lingers with his hand on my waist as he bends down to hug Jamie.

 

They’ve roped off a private section of a balcony for the three of us, and once we’ve spent some time backstage with the band, we’re ushered upstairs because they’re about to let the crowd in. Even though I’ve seen so many MCR shows from backstage now that I’ve lost count, it feels weird to watch the place fill up with people this time. We were supposed to be the supporting act tonight, but that’s not what feels weird – it’s more the fact that these kids remind me so much of myself, and I don’t belong to them anymore. Most of them probably know who I am. I can see the ones joining us on the balcony giving us looks, and a few actually point at me while talking to their friends. Just a little over a year ago, I was one of them. The one with the red dye in her hair and the band tees and the heavy eyeliner, who had never travelled farther than the next state. 

Apparently, this is what "living the dream" is like. And as far as I’ve seen, its as much of a shitstorm mixed with the good stuff as life in general.

The sound is kind of crude at this place, but at least we’ve probably got the best view in the building. The guys are amazing. It’s been a long time since I saw them perform from this angle – the last time it happened, Gerard and I were still dating. 

I catch him throwing a quick look in our direction in the beginning of the show, but after that, he’s completely focused on the crowd. It’s amazing to be able to see them like this. I can tell that they’re tired of touring, but that’s probably because I know them so well. If Infinity is just a fraction as good as these guys on stage on our best days, I can die happy.

Jamie is standing between me and Thea, and other than Thea’s and mine impromptu dance sessions during House of Wolves and Thank You for the Venom, she stands still against the railing, listening. I notice that she’s mostly grinning, just watching everything around her. 

Some of the lyrics aren’t exactly kid friendly, but she’s already heard all of them anyway. The only song I’m worried about is Sleep. _Sometimes I see flames, and sometimes I see people that I love dying._ Jamie doesn’t seem to react to it at all, even though I find myself holding her hand tightly again. She gives me a skeptical look but keeps her hand in mine. Maybe it’s just me being oversensitive. Jamie has already proven herself a lot tougher than me.

I can see Jamie mouthing the words to Cancer along with the rest of the crowd. It’s been so long since that day in Newark, and I suddenly feel like hugging her tightly. Just for still being my awesome little sister, despite all the shit she’s been through.

Before I can do that, though, the song is over, and in the few seconds separating it from Famous Last Words, I can hear Gerard saying something. It’s so fast and the crowd is still cheering from the last song that I almost miss it, but it’s there. Just enough for me to hear, but fast enough so that people can’t be sure.

"This one’s for you, A."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. This chapter took forever to write. It starts with a goodbye and ends with... Well. I hope you'll like it.
> 
> (It's actually a feat in itself that I've managed to go like fifteen years reading and writing fan fiction without ever having written a single sex scene.)

Jamie and Elliott are equally exhilarated and scared at the prospect of flying. It’s kind of an early flight, or at least early enough to cause me and Thea to get under six hours of sleep, but both kids are up long before I knock on their hotel room door to join them for breakfast. 

I’m in a sleepy daze for the entire meal, and I’m mostly just trying to remember that Jamie and Elliott leaving doesn’t mean I’ll never get to see them again. It works until I have to say goodbye to them on the sidewalk before they get into the cab.

Linda hugs me while I’m trying to conceal my tears from the kids.

"We’ll call you as soon as we’ve landed", she says. "Cry as much as you want to."

I kiss the top of Elliott’s head while Jamie clings to my neck.

"I love you guys. I’ll see you soon, okay?"

Jamie just nods. She’s wearing her new My Chemical Romance shirt, and even though it’s in the smallest size it looks like a dress on her. 

"Thanks again for last night", Thea says, also hugging me. She lets go and looks at me, grinning despite my tear-stained face. "Now go kick some ass at The Garden."

 

I could go into all sorts of analyses of the lyrics to Famous Last Words _._ When we got backstage after the show last night, things weren’t awfully awkward between me and Gerard, but it was still _there._ I looked at him, and he looked at me, and I knew that I hadn’t misheard and he knew that I’d heard exactly what he had said on stage. 

The song wasn’t written about me. I’m pretty sure it’s a mix of Mikey leaving the band while they were recording The Black Parade, as well as following the storyline of the album itself. But as he sung _I see you lying next to me/With words I thought I'd never speak_ he looked up at me, or at least to where I was standing as he was probably blinded by the lights. He was probably just trying to convey the part about _I am not afraid to keep on living,_ since, you know, my mother just died. And because it was only last week that I confessed to him that I was so far down after he dumped me that I was hurting myself. 

But still. Those two lines when he looked up at me, and the look in his eyes when we got backstage after the show. I felt the urgency when he hugged me, and the way he held his hand to the back of my head. 

And it scares the hell out of me even though it should be the only thing I would want to happen.

 

Karl and I take the train to New York, and when we open the door to our apartment it has been almost two months since we were last here. The weather is still warm and the apartment smells like unwashed clothes and dust.

The last time I was here I still had a mother, and I thought that I would stay in New York for at least a few more years. As Karl flops down on the couch and I open the windows in the living room, I try not to think about leaving this place. I always dreamed about going to New York to make a living by making music. Now I just have to try dreaming about living in Portland or whatever we decide instead.

"Are you up for some people coming over to hang out?" Karl asks while texting Noel. "Noel and Hunter are back in town and Pete is wondering if he can crash here tonight."

"Yeah, sure", I say, just as my phone vibrates. After reading Gerard’s text, I say: "Half of My Chem are apparently coming over too."

Karl gives me a quizzical look. "When did our apartment become the primary hangout place for these people?"

 

Pete looks like shit. His hair is too long and his eyes are red-rimmed, but he says it’s because they’re in the middle of recording. When he’s standing in our hallway just looking around, I ask him why he’s really here.

"You’re playing at MSG", he says. "That’s like, a huge thing for you. I just came to see you." And he looks at me quickly for a second before saying: "And I heard what happened. Just thought I’d check up on you."

There’s probably more to it to make him fly across the country, but I decide not to push it. After Infinity On High came out last year, there’s been this insane pressure on Pete and the rest of Fall Out Boy to make a record just as good as that one. Their band is obviously so much bigger than Infinity, but that kind of pressure is starting to build up for us too.

Pete gives me a bear hug, but I find myself thinking that this time it’s maybe Pete who needs the comfort of that hug. He smells like cigarettes and sweat, and while we’re still hugging, he asks me if he can use the shower. "I’m sorry to barge in on you like this." 

"We love you, Pete. There are towels under the sink."

When Hunter and Noel arrive twenty minutes later, Pete is lounging on our couch, watching _Friends_ with a cup of tea in his hand. Gerard, Frank and Ray arrive a few minutes later, and there’s a lot more hugging going on when they realize that Pete is here.

It’s still warm outside and the apartment seems to be vibrating with heat from all the people here. I have resorted to wearing pyjama shorts and a flannel – I’m in my own home, after all. The guys are all watching Ross singing "Baby Got Back" to his baby daughter while I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to cool off with a glass of water. I’ve seen this particular episode so many times that I know parts of it by heart.

Gerard is rummaging through our kitchen trying to find the tea, and we’re probably both trying desperately not to make things awkward. When he closes one of the cupboards, I’m holding the tin-box with this household’sstash of tea out to him. He smiles and thanks me and we stand there in silence while he prepares his tea. In the background, Rachel says something funny on the TV and I can hear Frank giggling.

"Are you alright?" Gerard asks me while looking at the tea leaves in his cup. "You seem kinda quiet."

"It’s been a long week, that’s all."

"Yeah." He smiles his sideways smile at me, and my stupid heart skips a beat when I meet his gaze. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I’m stoked", I say, smiling, and I actually feel that way. I’ve missed performing this week, and seeing My Chem yesterday just made me wish I was back.

Gerard doesn’t go back to the others once his tea is ready. Instead, he joins me by leaning against the counter next to me, and I realize that despite my best efforts to concentrate on what is being said on the TV, I’m actually completely focused on what Gerard is doing. For a second, I imagine what would happen if I just inched a little bit closer to him. Just close enough to almost touch. 

"Hey, Spencer wants us to come see them tonight. He’s telling me to tell you to ’get your asses over there'", Karl says from his place on the couch, making air quotes at the last part while still holding his phone. "You guys wanna go? It’s over on 52nd street."

I look at the time. It’s almost five in the afternoon, and it’ll take us at least 45 minutes to get to the venue, and that’s if there’s no traffic. During rush hour, it’ll probably be quicker to take the train. I didn’t change into these clothes to go out, but the guys are immediately up for it. I’m already tired from getting up early this morning, and the thought of seeing a lot of people isn’t appealing at all.

"I haven’t seen those guys in ages", Pete says, stretching his arms above his head. "They’ve been touring and we’ve been recording."

"It’s the Honda Civic tour, right?" Hunter says. "Are we taking the train?"

 

They end up calling a car service, since we live in Brooklyn, and they keep trying to make me come with them. Karl even calls Spencer to make him persuade me.

"Heeey, it’s my favorite Aubrey", Spencer says when Karl puts the phone to my ear. "You’re coming to see us, right?"

"You’re my favorite Spencer, Spence, but I really just want to curl up on the couch tonight."

"Yeah, I get that." There’s some noise in the background and Spencer asks Brendon to shut up. "We’ll catch up some other time, yeah?"

"Yeah. Break a leg."

Karl squints at me when I’ve hung up. I hand him his phone back.

"You’re okay, right? I don’t want to leave you alone if you’re not okay."

I smile at his worried expression.

"I’m fine. I’m just not in the mood."

Karl nods, and then turns to the others who are waiting with the front door open. Noel is on the phone with the car service and Frank is probably on the phone with Brian, as he’s saying something about "bringing the muscles". Brian wouldn’t let them go to a place filled with scene kids without some kind of protection, even though they would watch the show from backstage or from some comparatively safe spot.

I try not to look at Gerard, because I can feel my heart beating faster just by him still being within touching distance. He’s the last one to go out, and he’s zipping up his hoodie with the least awkward I’m-totally-fine-and-not-at-all-looking-at-you-face he can muster, probably. 

I want to ask him about last night, but now is not really the time. He smiles at me again, tells me to enjoy my peaceful evening, and is out the door before I’ve even thought about the first words to my question. 

_Exactly which parts of that song were meant for me?_

_How am I going to get over you if you keep being this difficult?_

I can hear the gate closing a few seconds later, and the guys talking on the street two stories below while they’re waiting for their ride. I partly wish I’d joined them, but having the apartment to myself for just a few hours seems like heaven right now. I could sort out my dirty laundry, or vacuum, or listen to the only kinds of music that Karl and I don’t agree on (although we’ve slowly worked our way towards each other during the last year). 

Just as I predicted when I talked to Spencer, I end up on the couch, curled up under a blanket and watching Ross being awkward with Phoebe’s boyfriend on _Friends._ I could easily fall asleep here, even though it’s not even six yet. 

I don’t have time to consider this option, though, before the entry phone makes that high-pitched noise that usually means that someone’s at the door. Realizing that Pete’s hoodie is still hanging over the back of the couch, I pick it up before going to buzz presumably-Pete in.

So I stand there, holding Pete’s hoodie, when Gerard knocks and opens the door I’ve just unlocked.

"Oh."

"Er… hi." Gerard looks from Pete’s hoodie to me, and closes the door behind him with a thud. "I, uh… I changed my mind."

"Oh."

I was exchanging words with this man minutes ago and was able to form proper consonants between my vowels. Now, I’m clutching Pete’s hoodie stupidly, not sure what to do with it now that Pete turned out to not be Pete at all.

"I couldn’t just… you know. When you were here alone and I haven’t like talked to you at all about, well…"

He scratches the back of his neck, and I surrender. 

This is not something I can fight. 

"We have popcorn", I say, putting Pete’s hoodie back on the couch while walking towards the kitchen. "And tea. And water, and some of that sour candy Karl likes. I was going to fall asleep in front of the TV if you want to join me."

"That sounds awesome."

Of course, we don’t even get to the couch. 

It’s probably inevitable. It probably has been inevitable for a while. I pour myself another glass of water in our tiny kitchen and he follows me there, and I’m just about to pour him a glass too when he inches closer to me, the way I wished I had done just half an hour ago. 

Close enough to not really touch. Close enough to make my breathing hitch just for a fraction of a second. I turn around, and he’s there, looking at me with that mix of wonder and something I don’t really know what to do with. 

"I’m sorry about yesterday", he blurts out, like he’s caught himself. "I’m sorry I did that. I know it seemed like…"

"I don’t even know what it seemed like", I say, smiling a bit, and all of a sudden feeling sure of myself in a way I haven’t in such a long time. "I had no clue what to make of it."

"I just wanted you to know, you know, that I… there’s nothing I can do to change that part _."_ He smiles, too, but it’s a small smile which changes into seriousness. "I know I’ve fucked this up, A. I really just want…"

But I’m so tired. I don’t want the excuses. We’ve both fucked this up. Hell, it’s a fucked up situation – I’m standing in my kitchen, with scars I don’t want anyone to see on my wrists, a week after my mother died, trying my best not to kiss Gerard Way. So before he’s had the chance to finish whatever he wants to say, I close that small gap between us. He looks at me wide-eyed when I’m all but pressed up against him. He’s always been a few inches taller than me.

"What do you want, Gee?"

It’s almost a whisper against his cheek, and I kiss it. I’ve been wanting to do so since he walked through the door tonight. As I continue to trail kisses along his jawline, down his neck, he sneaks his arms around me. I can almost feel his whole body surrendering.

"I want you", he whispers into my hair. 

Hearing him say it is like a pleasant blow to my stomach. It’s like letting go of this whole year’s supply of longing, and pouring it into the way he kisses me. Cautious yet hungry kisses, his lips soft against mine as he puts his hands in my hair. 

I think about the fact that we haven’t ever kissed this way before. My memory has been kind foggy on the details concerning this part of our relationship, but the way he pushes me against the counter is a new one, I’m pretty sure. The way he asks for permission for each and every move he makes is new, and the way he pulls my loose flannel over my head is something new, too. 

He doesn’t look at the scars, but he runs his thumb over them when I’ve gotten rid of the offending fabric of my shirt and he’s running his hands over my arms. I almost pull back then, and through the haze of Gerard’s hands on my body there’s panic at the back of my mind. I push it down, until there’s nothing left but Gerard’s scent in my head.

He must have noticed something, though, because he murmurs "are you okay?" with his lips to my forehead. I nod. 

"Yeah." 

I let out a laugh, too small to make a sound, but enough for him to smile.

"What?"

"It’s just… you. Me. In my kitchen."

He grins, and kisses me again instead of replying. Greedier this time, pinning me against the counter until it’s digging into my tailbone. I don’t mind. I want him even closer.

I work on the zipper to his hoodie while he keeps kissing me, working his way down my jaw to my neck. I miss the closeness of his body for the few seconds it takes for me to pull his hoodie off his shoulders, and him to shake it off completely. Just like my shirt, it ends up by our feet.

It’s surreal, watching him get undressed in my kitchen. He looks kind of dazed as I start to pull on his faded black t-shirt, and he helps me pull it over his head. And then he’s back, pressed against me, running his teeth over my lower lip. Skin against skin this time, and his hair smells of cigarette smoke and that sweet Gerard smell I thought I’d forgotten. 

I haven’t forgotten. As he puts his right hand above the waistband of my shorts, that smell is invading my head. Like millions of little memories that had curled up in there, waiting for this moment. They’re exploding on the insides of my eyelids as Gerard presses even closer, putting his thigh between my legs, pressing upwards just slightly. 

It’s enough to make me dig my nails into his shoulder blades.

There are a lot of things you do in life that you don’t remember after a while. I can’t recall every single time I’ve had sex, but now it feels as if every movement of our bodies becomes permanently etched in my memory. Gerard’s soft kisses on my collarbone. His fingers slowly working their way under my waistband, and my fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers and jeans that are too tight to be of this world.

He puts his free hand under my thigh to help me get up on the counter. Something clatters behind me as I push it over, but neither of us care.

And it’s kind of strange how I’ve never imagined myself having sex with Gerard on the counter in mine and Karl’s kitchen, because right now it seems like the only good thing in this world. 

His eyes bright, so focused on what he’s doing. My hands in his hair when I’ve finally managed to unzip his jeans. The way he smiles, a bit embarrassed as I tell him that there are condoms in my backpack by the couch, and how he pushes me down on it when I’ve untangled myself to go get one. ("Would’ve been an awkward angle in the kitchen anyway", he says between kisses, and I laugh.)

The way he kisses my neck and finally pushes my shorts and my underwear from my hips, his warm hands running down my thighs. 

The way he whispers a question when his fingers slide back down their insides, and how he smiles at me when I tell him that _god, yes, do._

His fingers, his pressure, his eyes when he makes me come.

The crashing waves.

The way I don’t have to worry about being quiet, because we’re not on a tour bus this time.

My hand on the back of his neck when he’s hovering above me afterwards, and he’s silently asking me if we’re really doing this, if this really is Gerard and Aubrey giving in, giving up.

I just reach up to kiss him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm apparently constantly changing the number of chapters this fic will end up with, but I think I've managed to decide that 26 is the right number. The last chapter was a long one, but I needed to split the last part before the epilogue (ooooh) into two so that you wouldn't be confused by all the stuff that's going on.
> 
> Please leave kudos or a comment if you feel like it. :)

Gerard is sleeping in my bed.

Karl and Pete got home hours ago, after Gerard had already fallen asleep. Before that, Gerard and I had taken a shower, ordered pizza, and watched the last few episodes on the _Friends_ DVD from earlier. It had been _nice._ We had brushed our teeth together, and I had caught him looking at me, giving me that small smile when I looked back at him in the mirror before rinsing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just… you."

I had felt him fall asleep curled up next to me, his arm draped across me and his face buried in my hair. That used to make me feel safe, and I should have been able to fall asleep too. But I couldn’t even close my eyes. My whole body felt like it was charged with something, and it still feels that way.

I heard Karl and Pete talking about us when they came in, when they probably thought that we were asleep (or that I was asleep, since they couldn’t really know that Gerard was still here – but on the other hand, I wouldn’t put it past Pete to have pushed Gerard in the direction of our apartment when the others left to go see Panic). I only heard a small part of what I guess was a longer conversation.

"She’s great", Pete had said. "I’ve really missed her. It’s like she’s finally come out of that Gerard-shaped shell."

"Yeah." Karl had sounded tired. "I love the guy, but he really fucked with her head. Or maybe they both fucked with both their heads, it’s kinda hard to tell."

It wasn’t a conversation that I was supposed to hear, but they didn’t exactly keep it down.

I’m sitting on the fire escape now, with the window open behind me. It’s the kind of New York thing I once wished for; I wanted nothing more from life than to feel confused on a fire escape in New York City. It’s not really all that I expected it to be.

I can’t make sense of this. I’m still a bit sore in all the right places, and the guy I’ve spent this past year longing for is currently asleep in my bed. And I’m not happy.

It’s almost chilly outside now, and I guess that’s reasonable since it’s only May. The leaves on the trees on our street have just started to show themselves, rushed by this week’s warm weather. I should be asleep, not freezing wrapped in a blanket with no pants on on a fire escape. Tomorrow, or rather today, is what might be the most important day of my career so far.

My _career._

Last year right about now, I was just a high school dropout. High school dropouts are not supposed to have careers.

My mind sounds like my mother, and I try to shake the sudden feeling of dread of becoming just like her. What my life has become is something amazing; it’s something I’m so proud to have achieved that I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s every part of me that’s good.

And still, Gerard is sleeping behind me, and there’s something off with that. I want desperately to crawl up next to him, and just feel that for a minute, everything is okay. Gerard is here. Gerard is _home._ I’m in love with him.

It takes me a few minutes more of freezing on the fire escape to realize that loving Gerard is not the same as wanting to spend the rest of my life with him.

 

"Morning, bedhead."

He’s lying next to me, texting, when I wake up. I’m closer to him now than when I finally went to bed; my left leg is draped across his right one, and my nose is pressed up against his shoulder. I’m thirsty and sleep-deprived.

It feels nice, though, lying next to him.

"What time is it?"

"Ten. Or ten fifteen", he says, checking his phone.

I move away from the warmth of his body, somewhat reluctantly, and I roll out of bed feeling like something from a horror movie. I didn’t get into bed again until almost three in the morning, and it felt like I was tossing and turning for hours.

"It’s today", I say stupidly.

"Yeah." Gerard looks at me searchingly, but doesn’t say anything more. He wants me to say something, I’m sure, but I don’t know what to tell him.

I don’t look at him as I reach for my own phone on the night stand. I’m in a tank top and my pajama shorts – he slid them off of me yesterday and they ended up in a heap on the floor. If I concentrate, I can still feel his fingertips on the inside of my thigh. But I don’t concentrate, and I almost visibly shake my head to make myself not think about it.

If Pete and Karl are surprised to see Gerard at breakfast, they don’t show it. If they have any thoughts at all about the way Gerard kisses my cheek when I’m pouring cereal into a bowl next to the microwave, they keep it to themselves. I catch them looking at each other knowingly, and I know that I will have to explain this to them later.

I don’t really know how, though. I have no idea what we’re doing, and I don’t think that Gerard has any idea either.

 

If playing at Madison Square Garden is a big deal for Infinity, it’s even more of a lifelong dream for My Chemical Romance. When we’re in the car sent to pick us up, I can’t help but smile as I realize that Gerard’s fidgeting with my hand has nothing to do with him being nervous because of me – well, not just because of me. He can’t sit still because it’s his first time at the Garden too.

I remember going to see the New York Rangers with mom’s ex Owen, in some lame attempt from his side to bond with me. I was ten, Owen got drunk, lost track of me, and I spent two hours alone on the streets of Manhattan looking for him before a kind police woman helped me call my mom.  It’s not exactly a happy memory. But I remember walking up to those front doors and thinking that this was the coolest place I’d ever been to.

I get to spend exactly nine minutes backstage at the coolest place I’ve ever been to before Frank has found me, and he looks at me like I’ve stolen his puppy and given him candy at the same time.

"Are you sure you know what you’re doing?" he asks when we’re getting lunch from the backstage buffet before Infinity’s soundcheck. Of course, he’s figured out the exact reason why Gerard didn’t get back to their hotel last night.

"I don’t have fucking clue, Frank, what do you think?"

I don’t mean for it to sound like I’m mad at him, so I fire off a smile which probably doesn’t look strained in the least. He quirks an eyebrow.

"Good to know." 

We spend two awkward minutes filling the rest of our plates with veggie tacos, before he says:

"I know you can make your own decisions, A. It’s not that. I just don’t want to be the one to find you like that ever again."

It’s not an accusation. It’s just Frank, using a voice I haven’t heard before. It sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking, and even though I know he doesn’t mean to make me feel bad, the guilt wraps itself around me. He must have been so worried about me. They all were.

I don’t say anything while we’re getting seats in the dining area, which is far more luxurious than the one in Philly. 

"You know I still love him, right? And I don’t want to hurt him. It’s just…" I pick at a piece of salad, not really feeling hungry. "I don’t think I can give him anything anymore. Not right now, anyway. And there’s like so much stuff going on, and I don’t even think that I’ve forgiven him yet. And this thing with my mom just… God, it’s so messed up."

Frank isn’t eating either while listening to me ranting. This isn’t really the ideal place for this conversation; Gerard is getting food by the buffet, and our bandmates and managers and crew are either doing the same or are about to sit down right next to us. 

"Tell him that."

I look up at Frank from the piece of salad I’ve torn into pieces on my plate.

"I can’t."

"Why not?"

I don’t have time to think about my answer, though, because Gerard is walking towards us and sits down next to me. 

He pecks my cheek when he sits down, and my heart swells. Butterflies. And it doesn’t matter that people can see us.

He smiles at me, and I love him.

_Why not?_


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alright children, the lights are out and the party's over." The lyrics in this chapter are a mix of Panic! at the Disco's "This Is Gospel" and "Impossible Year". If you want to, you can imagine the song Infinity's playing sounding a lot like "This Is Gospel". (I did.)
> 
> Thank you so much for giving this story your love and kudos. It's been great being able to finish it, and to have people read it. The last chapter will be an epilogue. I hope you'll stick around for that.

Our soundcheck is pretty routine, and it feels good to be back on stage, doing something I know. But Madison Square Garden is _huge._ We’ve played at pretty large venues before, especially on this tour, but nothing this size. Nothing with more than 10,000 people in the crowd. MSG has a capacity for 20,000 people, and tonight it’s sold out. 

Of course, they’re all there for My Chem. But still. It’s empty now, but I try to imagine what it will look like tonight – the anticipation, the chanting, the heat of all those people in this room. The other venues have been wild, too, but just thinking about performing here makes my stomach flip. It could have something to do with Gerard too, but I’m pretty sure that it’s at least half-and-half. 

We try some songs out, editing the setlist somewhat from what it was last week. The guys seem to be just as excited as I am, and the guys in My Chem plus Pete are sitting on the floor with their backs leaning against the barrier by the sound tech, watching us and cheering every time something goes right, or wrong (like when Hunter drops his drumsticks or when I almost trip and fall over the microphone stand). Everything is generally going great, until Noel says:

"Hey, shouldn’t we play that new song?"

"The _new_ new one?" Karl says. "We’ve played it like three times."

Noel shrugs, and looks at Hunter and me. Hunter shrugs too, and says: "It’s a great song. Maybe we shouldn’t go with it tonight though, 'cause nobody’s heard it."

I don’t say anything. I know exactly which song they’re talking about. And I know exactly when and why I wrote it. There’s been a lot of songs about Gerard this year, even though most of them never ended up being finished songs at all. This one did, though.

"Yeah, but it’s a great song, and we’ve still got some time, right?" Noel says, this time into the microphone, and gets a thumbs up from the sound tech.

Suddenly, they’re all looking at me. It’s like they haven’t even heard the lyrics to this song.

"Yeah, okay", I hear myself say. Fucking peer pressure. "We’ll see how it goes."

It’s kind of a different song from our usual sound – Gerard once described us as sounding like a mix of me and Karl, with Karl being the hardcore part and me being the more melodic, dreamy part. This song is definitely more of me than it is of Karl, since I wrote it on my own and didn’t show it to Karl until I was sure I was happy with it. It’s probably the only song that hasn’t been a complete collaboration, although Karl was happy to contribute with some changes that I hadn’t even thought of. 

As I hear Hunter starting on the intro on the drums, I tell our very small but lovable audience:

"You guys are the first ones to hear this song. So thanks, and we’re sorry."

They cheer again, applauding. I grin in spite of my sudden nervousness.

I don’t look at Gerard during the first verse, but I’ve managed to get myself together for the chorus. And he’s looking straight at me – not in the way that Pete and the others are watching us, interested, but in a concentrated way that makes me realize that he’s listening to the lyrics intently.

 

_This is the beat of my heart_

_black days and sky grey_

_and clouds full of fear_

_the fear of falling apart_

 

_Scars like souvenirs of this year_

_and there’s no you and me_

_just the clouds full of fear_

_it’s just the beat of my heart_

_the fear of falling apart_

 

It’s strange, because when I wrote these lyrics, it never occurred to me that they would have a melancholy tune. So the song is kind of upbeat, but heavy, with the heartbeats of Hunter’s drums like a constant throughout the song. They stop for just a second before the chorus, and even though I can hear that this is not the best we’ve ever sounded, we nail that bridge. It’s good enough to be on the setlist for tonight, even though Karl misses his cue for the chorus and I mess up the chords once.

It ends the way it started, with the beating of the drums echoing like heartbeats, and the quiet that follows is deafening. 

Lyrics are just lyrics, I try to tell myself. Lyrics stop being about just the stuff they were originally written about when the song is finished. It’s what artistic license is all about. Gerard knows that too, but on the other hand, maybe he hasn’t had that many songs written about his failed relationships.

Six people are standing up, whooping and applauding, and I can hear Pete shouting " _this_ is why I fucking signed you guys!"

And Gerard is just standing there, smiling, but it’s obvious that he has understood every word. 

 

Maybe this is the way it has to go. I’m a coward, and this is not the right time to talk about the important stuff – not when we’re both going on stage in front of 20,000 people in just a few hours. Singing that song may have been reckless, but in a way, I feel that it was the only way I could put it out there without saying it out loud. 

I’m not sure what it is I’ve put out there, though. We’re hanging out in the green room later, when My Chem have had their soundcheck and we’re all just waiting for the show to start, doing our usual pre-show routines and generally being stressed out and extremely excited about tonight. I’m having a hard time sitting still, but Gerard is leaning against me on the couch so that I have to. It’s probably a good thing. Despite everything that’s happened, having Gerard close is still home. It’s still what makes me feel safe, maybe even more so since yesterday.

He has his head on my lap with his feet propped up on the armrest. The other are close, but the couch Gerard and I are on is on the other side of the room from them. I can see Noel and Ray talking on another couch, and Brian is on the phone, trying to work out some detail about tonight. Frank looks at me from across the room and smiles.

This is how it’s supposed to be. There’s something so _right_ about this situation, with my fingers stroking Gerard’s forehead and him smiling up at me. And still…

"Hi", I say when he keeps smiling. I smile back.

"Hey beautiful." My heart makes a sudden leap. He probably doesn’t have the best view of me from my lap, but I’m not going to argue. Gerard looks back to the screen of his phone, and we’re silent for a few more minutes before he says:

"That song was kind of intense."

He throws a glance at me to gauge my reaction, but I pretend not to notice.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Don’t be sorry, it’s an awesome song."

In a way, I’m thankful that he doesn’t push it. He doesn’t ask about how much of that song that is still accurate, or if I’m okay now, or if we should talk about what happened yesterday. All those questions are swarming in my mind, but none of them make it to the surface. It hits me that maybe he’s just as scared of letting go of this fragile closeness that we’ve achieved to risk it by bringing it up.

So we sit there until it’s time to get ready for real, talking idly about stuff that doesn’t really matter. The others join us after a while, and for about an hour, I have the best time with these guys. I don’t worry about moving to Portland or about Pete still looking so tired, or about having to reach some kind of conclusion about telling Gerard whatever it is I want to tell him. 

And then, it’s already six p.m. and they’ve started to let people in. Infinity has a private pep talk in our dressing room, and we deliberately don’t talk about the future at all. There’s no mention of Portland, or Noel’s shaky relationship with Jake, or the fact that none of us really know how to address the week we’ve just endured. Instead, we go through our setlist one more time, and have one last argument about whether or not that new song is a good idea (even though we can’t really change the setlist now). Before we leave the room, I take off the thin, grey cardigan that I’ve been wearing over my t-shirt.

Karl looks at me for a second before he follows me out the door, but doesn’t say anything – it’s not the first time he’s seen my scars, but this time it’s different. 

I’m afraid that Derek will say something about it when we pass him on our way towards the stage entrance, but he just high-fives us and grabs my shoulder lightly for a brief second.

"You ready for this?"

"I’m always ready for this", I say, forcing a grin.

 

By the time we leave the stage I’m so high on adrenaline that I feel like I could go up there again for another eight songs. I gulp down the entire contents of the water bottle one of the roadies has handed me, and I look around to see my bandmates in about the state that I’m in: completely worn out and exhilarated. We’ve just outdone ourselves in front of the bulk of tonight’s 20,000 people, and their cheering is still ringing in my ears.

As we make our way to the green room, I’m barely aware that I’m even walking. This is always the best part of performing, even though it’s bittersweet. Any of the doubts I may have had before going on stage are wiped away by the buzz of the moment, and I forget about the outside world for just a few minutes.

That’s probably why I fling my arms around Gerard’s neck the moment I see him, completely ignoring the fact that I’m drenched in sweat. I just can’t stop grinning, and he hugs me back tightly while there’s a little voice at the back of my mind asking me what the hell I’m doing. I shouldn’t be hugging him when I don’t even know what to tell him.

 

There's always a special kind of tension just before My Chem goes on stage, and this night is no different. When I went to their shows as a fan, there was always this moment when you realized that they would be getting on stage any minute. Backstage, it’s kind of the same. Everything quiets down for just a second. I’ve been off to change my t-shirt in our dressing room, and the whole backstage area seems almost deserted. 

Gerard looks pale. He’s in his stage clothes, the black vest and the dress shirt and the black pants, and he’s rolling a water bottle from one hand to the other when I knock on the doorframe to their dressing room. He’s alone, sitting on the couch, and the door is open. 

"Hi", he says, smiling a little when he sees me standing there. "I thought you’d gone up there."

The rest of Infinity has taken their seats in the VIP box. Normally we would have watched from the wings, but we were all tired and wanted to see the show sitting down. 

"I just wanted to see you first."

Gerard smiles wider at this, but I can tell that something’s up. I sit down next to him. Close enough that our knees are touching.

"It’s gonna be a great show", I tell him. "The crowd is awesome. And it’s MSG. What could go wrong?"

He doesn’t look at me, and is still fiddling with the water bottle.

"It’s not the show I’m worried about."

He sighs, but doesn’t say anything more for a while. It’s not like I don’t get it, but I don’t know what I could possibly say to make it better. Not when he’s going on stage in five minutes.

He keeps looking at the water bottle, still shifting it between his hands, and I look at him. He’s frowning a bit. His hair is unkempt in a way that makes you think he didn’t do anything with it, but he really spent at least five minutes trying to get it that way. 

There’s so much that needs to be said. I want to tell him about all these conflicting emotions, but I can’t even begin to put them into words. I want to tell him how much he’s changed me, but I want to think that he already knows. I want to tell him how much I love him, but I’m not sure it would help.

"Do you want to be with me?"

At first, I don’t even register what he’s saying. It’s such a strange question, and this setting is just wrong for it. This room should be filled with pre-show nerves, not _this._ When I don’t answer, he turns to me. Eyes wide, and he looks so vulnerable. 

"Do I want to…"

"… be with me?"

I can’t look at him, and in a way, I think it dawns on him that I’m not going to throw myself at him the moment I look away.

"Right." The way he says it is so final, and I can hear the way he tries to keep his voice devoid of any emotion. He’s never been good at that.

"Gee, we shouldn’t be… God, you’re going on stage like _now."_

"I know. I just thought I’d want to know."

His voice is tight, controlled, but on the verge of something else. He gets up suddenly, and there’s something defensive in it. Like he doesn’t want me to follow him, but I do. He’s halfway out the door when I grab his wrist, and the look he gives me is not that of someone who’s looking forward to finally having a dream come true by performing at Madison Square Garden.

"Do you really want to talk about this, Gee? 'Cause I’m not letting you go up there thinking I don’t love you."

If there ever was a worse time for this conversation, it would probably have been during my mother’s funeral. I can hear Brian some distance away, his voice echoing through the corridors asking if anyone has seen Gerard. But Gerard himself is looking at me like there aren’t 20,000 people waiting for him.

"Of course I want to be with you, asshole." He looks at me disbelievingly, but there’s so much anger pent up with my emotions that I can’t keep it out of my voice any longer. "I love being with you, I love what happened last night." I slide my hand into his at this, and there’s a shadow of a smile on his face. "But I’m still mad at you. Don’t you get that? I told you, I love you, and I’m mad at you. It’s like… I can’t stop loving you, and I can’t stop hating the fact that I broke myself for loving you."

Brian’s voice is closer now. _Frank, have you seen him?_

"I want to be with you, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. And all that stuff you told me about me being too young… It’s still there."

There’s so much relief in finally telling him, and I don’t realize that I’m crying until Gerard puts his arms around me and my tears are staining the fabric on his shoulder. He sighs.

"God, I really fucked this up."

"Yeah." I can’t help but laugh now, muffling my chuckle against his shoulder while my tears continue to flow freely. "Now get up there before Brian finds us."

"Just give me a minute."

He’s still holding me, and I still let him. It takes me a second to realize that he’s trying not to cry while also smiling into my hair.

"I love you", he tells me, and I can hear him trying not to cry, and I hold him tighter. "I get that you can’t be with me, but I do. I really love you."

I want to stay standing here forever, just stuck in this moment where Gerard telling me that he loves me is just that. But there’s Brian, at the other end of the corridor, and his "Gerard, what the fu…" dies out as he realizes that something is going on, and there’s Gerard, looking up from our embrace to tell Brian that he’ll be there in a minute. The real world.

"I need to go", Gerard whispers. 

"Told you so."

He chuckles, and I smile, and for a second, everything’s alright. We’re just two people who love each other.

Gerard holds my hand while we walk towards the doors leading into the arena, and Frank, Mikey, Ray and Bob all smile as I tell them to break a leg, and Gerard puts his forehead to mine despite Brian telling him again to get a move on. Gerard’s hands on my shoulders, and my hands around his waist. I reach up to kiss him then, softly.

"Go out there", I tell him. "I’ll see you after the show."


End file.
